Take the Blame So I Don't Have To
by VeniVediLegi
Summary: He was a boy. She was a girl. They made a mistake. Six years later, she's the only one paying the price. When fate reuinites them, can Diana forgive Bruce? Can he forgive himself? A story about family, friendship and forgiveness. AU. No powers or league. Rated M for later chapters and language. WonderBat.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a story idea that has been plaguing my mind for months. It came about after I saw Black Panther and wondered how Themyscira would function if it were a real country existing today. The plot and Diana's story unravelled from there. It took me forever to post because I've never written anything and I'm worried that no one will like it.**

 **This is a wonderbat AU story, however, if you're just here for the ship and not for the journey that our characters will go through, then this probably isn't the story for you. I tried to write Bruce and Diana as real people living today, so just keep that in mind while reading.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these amazing characters. I'm just obsessed with them.**

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 ** _One_**

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 _Gotham City now..._

The heavy front door swung open with a jarring croak and Steve found himself thinking, not for the first time, that he really needed to oil the hinges. Like every Wednesday morning, he got to Diana's flat before she got out of the shower. Wednesday was the only weekday that neither he nor Diana had any morning sessions with clients, and so they both usually got together to discuss upcoming events or plan things for the social media marketing of their fitness business.

Today was no different, yet Steve knew that this would be one of the most difficult conversations that he'd ever have to have with Diana.

By the time he passed the guest bathroom and Jason's bedroom by feeling around the walls of the low lit hallway, he was almost blinded by the white light streaming into the massive ceiling to floor windows at the end of the living room. Steve squinted until his eyes gradually adjusted to the flat. Everything was as expected. The clear cut lines of the pristine — almost masculine furniture and clinically clean floors and shelves was always broken up by something unexpectedly feminine or juvenile. Today for example, a lace hemmed night gown draped carelessly over the back of her faux leather couch, or the five or six worse for wear collectible baseball cards fanned carelessly over the taupe-white granite island in the middle of the kitchen. As always, Steve closed his eyes and took a long deep breath and inhaled Diana's scent, her essence the reason why her flat always felt more at home to him than his own, or even his mothers' apartment where he grew up. Lemongrass with a hint of cinnamon, the mild sweetness, from whatever fruit was left out on the open produce cart in her kitchen, and the lavender that she always put in the diffuser to help Jason calm down at night. They were all so pronounced and bold, yet none of them overpowered each other.

They just smelled like home.

The muted sound of the shower was coming from the loft bathroom. "It's the only time when I don't have to rush shaving my legs." She'd told him matter of factly, one morning when he asked her why he always had to come here and wait for her every single week. Steve had offered to pay for her to go to a spa and get a professional wax, but she turned him down politely, she said liked doing it herself. Clearly leg shaving was a luxury to her. That was the thing about Diana though, you could move mountains and she wouldn't be impressed, but one day the smallest thing would knock her socks off.

Just like every Wednesday, Steve made his way to the kitchen and yanked opened the stainless steel fridge to see what could he could whip up for their breakfast. Diana's refrigerator, always seemed to resemble a terrarium in different stages of growth. Today, the shelves were blooming with large bunches of leafy greens, with sporadic bursts of colour from various other fruits and vegetables.

While Steve was still standing there thinking about what ingredients he would need for their smoothie, the lock for the loft bathroom unhinged and Steve could hear Diana's steps padding around her bedroom right above his head. That lemongrass scent of hers drifted more strongly throughout the open-plan apartment.

"Are you there, Steven?" She called out. The sound of glass clinking followed her words. Steve thought that, no doubt, she was replacing one of the many bottles on her dresser,.

"Yeah! What do you want in your smoothie?" His muffled voice travelled up to Diana. And just from the sound she could picture him bent over looking into the lower drawers of the freezer compartment.

"Surprise me." She shouted back. There was a rustling from downstairs which Diana assumed was Steve grabbing whatever he needed from the fridge, followed by the loud scream of the blender.

Diana sighed and looked at herself in her full length mirror. Her long hair looked like a rangy, dark mop but she was too hungry and her arms were too sore from her earlier workout to start detangling it. Her hair was a labour of love for her. She loved her long thick waves, she spent a lot of time and probably even more money taking care of it. But truly, there was nothing she hated doing more than styling her hair. Once it was styled it was the softest thing ever, but before she detangled it, it always felt like the manes of her horses from back home after she'd taken them out for a hard ride.

Diana shot her hair one more baleful look then pulled on the dark cropped hoodie she had on her bed and skipped down the stairs from her loft bedroom to meet Steve in the kitchen.

He was already sitting at one of the barstools in her kitchen with both of their smoothies resting on the breakfast bar, so Diana lifted herself onto the stool next to his.

"A girl could consider making a honest man, out of you, Steven," Diana smiled wryly, cocked her head slightly towards him then looked up at him through her thick lashes. When her pale, blue eyes met his bright, green ones, Steve arched an eyebrow mischievously and smiled, the dimple on his left cheek deepened.

"You say that like if I'm not constantly feeding you, Prince. I literally take a bag of snacks with me everywhere we go so that you can keep your precious blood sugar stable."

"But that's only because Jason always eats all of my food." She reasoned.

"It's a vicious cycle then." Steve threw his hands up pretending to be exasperated. Without missing a beat he added. "I'll give you some simple advice though, free of charge." That dimple of his, the one that Diana always wanted to press her finger into, deepened even more as his smile widened again. "All you need to do is take more food with you."

"But then I wouldn't have an excuse to talk to you and you'd be a very lonely boy." She did have a point there, the majority of their conversations did revolve around food.

"Then I'd be lonely, that's true." He conceded as he closed his fist over his heart in mock heartache and Diana's smile went from wry to blinding in a nanosecond. She and Steve always fell into the same playful banter whenever they were together, but in all the years that they'd been best friends they'd never even dreamed of crossing the line.

"Jason wants you to take him training with you this weekend. I've been trying to tell him that we need to leave you on your own sometimes so that you can find a girlfriend. But he very rudely informed me that you don't need one," Diana said. Steve who'd already started drinking his blueberry smoothie, had to purse his lips tightly so that the liquid didn't come spraying out with his laugh.

"It's nice that he knows what's best for me."

Diana chuckled and chucked one of the cherries that Steve had taken out for them, into her mouth. "I know. He's incorrigible."

"Are my moms taking him and Jessie out today?"

"I think the plan is to try to see a movie, but that really depends on whether or not the rain lets up." Ostensibly, Diana's eyes drifted towards the large windows at the far end of the living room. Steve's gaze followed hers and sure enough there was the telltale gathering of angry grey clouds in the sky. The city had been bathed with torrential rain for the last three days.

"Gotham's never been on the map for its good weather." Steve said and Diana nodded. "When you go up to finish getting ready, I'll pop down to my moms' and say hello."

Steve's parents lived on the tenth floor of Diana's apartment building. It had become so normal for both the families to be in and out of each other's homes, that Diana joked that they lived in her basement and Etta and Barbara, Steve's mothers, called Diana's apartment their attic.

When Diana had come here to live a little more than five years ago, she was sixteen, alone, terrified and four months pregnant. It was Steve's mothers Etta and Barbara who took her in. Diana remembered that first night she'd spent in her apartment. She was sitting on the laminate floor in the middle of her empty apartment trying and failing to make sense of the IKEA instructions to build her bed, which was laying in front of her in a pile of parts.

Unsurprisingly, Diana did not have the faintest idea about how to use a screwdriver. After all, it was only three months prior that she was still being raised as Her Royal Highness Diana, Princess of Themyscira, and despite her extensive education, somehow the use of construction tools, that held no role in the creation of art, was completely left out of her lessons. As if to add insult to injury, her stomach was growling like a rabid dog, but her fridge wasn't scheduled to be delivered until the next day, so she hadn't been able to stock up on groceries. The thought of eating take-out again only served to activate her gag reflex. She'd only just started getting over her morning sickness, she felt that if she never vomited again it would be too soon.

To summarize, Diana wanted to cry. She felt sorry for herself and she wanted to wail and scream until her voice ran hoarse. But what good would that do? Besides no one would come. She was alone now.

When Diana was little, her servants or even her mother would be at her side before her first tears could even spill over her eyelids. Now the only thing that greeted her tears were the mocking echos of her own sobs that reverberated in her empty apartment. It was the emptiness that made her feel sorry for herself more than anything. It exaggerated the fact that she was lonely and that no one cared anymore.

She couldn't stop the tears now. They were falling in fat drops onto the small instruction diagram in front of her. Her tears bled the ink and welted the paper into thick, black blotches. Diana looked at the smudges and let out a disgusted snort, the ruined paper seemed like a sad metaphor for her life; she was given everything she needed to succeed yet somehow she managed to mess it all up for herself.

The doorbell to her apartment buzzed angrily into the silence and Diana sat up immediately her brows furrowed suspiciously. Could it be that Bruce had changed his mind? No, it couldn't be, because he wouldn't know where to find her. But then again who could it be? There weren't anymore deliveries scheduled for today. When the doorbell buzzed a second time Diana automatically jolted upright and walked over to the door, her bare feet padding with quick, muffled thuds on the floor. Diana paused for a beat, inhaled deeply and dried her tears, then she opened the door. To her surprise there was a short, brown-skinned round woman standing there.

"Hello sweetheart, is your mother at home?" The woman smiled kindly and stepped forward turning her head slightly and looking into Diana's apartment. When Diana just stared at her blankly the stranger added, "My wife is a university professor and she has a huge presentation in a couple of days, but there's been some kind of noise coming from up here — our apartment is just below yours. We just wanted to work out a time — with your parents — when we can have some quiet. We know that you all just moved in and you have to arrange things…" the woman trailed off and started playing with the wooly end of one of her dreads that fell over her shoulder.

Diana who was still taken aback by the intrusion, took some time to process what the woman was saying to her. She could hear her mother's voice chiding her in her head. "It's not polite to stare." Though her mother, Queen Hippolyta, bless her soul, never did say things in the nasally, whiny voice that Diana always used whenever she heard her mother's voice nagging her in her head.

Diana shook her head quickly as if to clear her thoughts, lifted her head, then said, "I'm so sorry, that's me. I can't — I don't know how to build my bed and I've been dragging parts of the frame on the floor because I'm afraid to lift them just in case —" Diana stopped abruptly and blushed deeply. But her neighbour's eyes lowered to where Diana's hand was ever so casually caressing her stomach.

When Diana noticed the woman watching, she winced and dropped her hand as though she was touching hot coals. She mentally berated herself for being so careless in front of a stranger. Her stomach wasn't at all noticeable in her denim overalls, but she'd given herself away. Diana was slowly coming to terms with the lingering judgemental eyerolls and scornful glances that came her way when people learned she was a pregnant teenager, and here she was ruining the mutual neighbourly politeness that she could possibly have with this woman.

Luckily for Diana, Etta Candy was one of those women who rarely ever did what one expected of her.

Etta's eyes softened as she looked at Diana's face. She wanted to get a read on this tall, dark-haired, mysterious girl. The sadness that Etta saw in Diana's pale blue eyes struck her unexpectedly. Etta could already see her son, Steve, and her wife, Barbara, rolling their eyes and smiling conspiratorially at each other when she'd tell them what had happened between her and Diana. Barbara always told Etta that she was a magnet for sad stories.

Etta sighed and said, "Maybe I can help you with your bed, dear. Is it from IKEA?" Diana, who was at a loss of words from the unexpected detour their conversation was taking, could only nod mutely in response. Her mother's shrill voice augmented in both pitch and volume in her head, still reminding her to speak up. Etta smiled gently and motioned with an angled nod of her head for Diana to lead the way.

Within the hour, Etta had helped Diana lift all of the furniture boxes up the narrow flight of stairs to the loft area that she'd intended to use for her bedroom, put together her bed and nightstands and most importantly (and much to Diana's gratitude) taught the young girl not only how to use a screwdriver, but even explained the names and uses off all the tools that came in Diana's generic orange and white IKEA toolbox.

They were both sitting at the foot of her bed drinking water when Etta's curiosity finally got the better of her. With Diana desperate to have the company of her neighbour for a little longer, she was keen to answer Etta's questions, "It's really complicated and I'm forbidden from explaining the details, but basically I can never go back home unless I give him up." Diana's hand moved to rest on her stomach again. Etta's response came as a sad smile. Diana had gotten used to sad smiles and adults pitying her or giving her unsolicited advice, in the last few months, so just to make things clear, she added, "That's really all there is, I won't give up my son. My blood is flowing into him right at this very moment. No one can change my mind."

Diana's jaw set defiantly. Etta noticed that the teenager was clutching the loose fabric of the leg of her denim overall in the fist of the hand that wasn't resting on her tiny baby bump, the older woman placed her hand on top of Diana's fist and squeezed it comfortingly. "A mother's love does not ever need to be justified, sweetheart. But, you're so young and you're a foreigner." Diana's eyes snapped up to Etta's. She was surprised to find them just as kind as they were since Etta had entered her apartment.

"I'm Greek." Diana said. Diana knew that Etta must've picked up on her accent. It didn't take a rocket scientist to hear it. Grammatically, her English skills were impeccable, but she'd grown up on an isolated island with teachers who weren't native speakers themselves; it was no surprise that her accent was quite thick.

When they were friends, Bruce, Lois and Clark used to constantly heckle her about her exaggerated 'r's' and the throaty, broad way she said all her words. Her memories of them filled her with a bitterness that Diana didn't even think she was capable of feeling until recently. But the phantasmagoria of her time with her friends pierced through her whenever she thought of them. Every single time that the intense pain of their memories would wear off, Diana would be left with a constant dull ache that never left.

When she thought only of Bruce, Diana felt used and dirty. Like a wrapper meant to be jettisoned as soon as you'd finished your treat. Or perhaps he saw her as the stickiness that stained your fingers after you'd eaten. The dirty filth that you couldn't wait to scrub off of your skin. That was how Diana assumed that Bruce viewed her; as something to be consumed; then she had left a human stain that he couldn't wait to wash his hands clean of.

"If you're so young and you're all alone, how are you going to support yourself and the baby?" Etta's voice brought Diana out of her thoughts.

"I had some valuable belongings that I sold. That's how I bought all of this." She motioned her open arms through the air gesturing vaguely to her surroundings. "And I've already paid my tuition for this year. I was supposed to start in the winter semester, but I deferred for a year because of the baby." Etta looked suitably impressed so Diana continued, "I should have enough money to get me through the year, but I'm going to start working as soon as I can after giving birth, that way the baby and I don't run out."

"How old are you? You seem quite young to be going to university."

"That's because I am. I'm about to turn seventeen." Etta's eyes widened in disbelief. As a way of explanation, Diana said, "Mother invested heavily in my education. I'm ahead of most kids my age."

Etta nodded, though she didn't really understand.

"May I ask you one more thing?"

"Sure."

"Where's the father?"

Before Diana could help it, her shoulders slumped and the all too familiar sting of tears came to her eyes. "I know it's stupid and every pregnant teenager probably says the same thing, but," she swallowed thickly, "I thought he loved me." The tears were flowing freely now. "Now, he doesn't even want to see me." Diana's breath stuttered on a sigh and she quickly started wiping her tears away. Etta looked on, distressed. She wanted to wrap her arm around Diana, but she couldn't be sure that the girl would like that — they'd only just met. Instead Etta simply squeezed Diana's hand again. Diana squeezed back and smiled sadly at Etta.

"I don't know that there's anything that I can say to make you feel better, but we're neighbours, so, what d'ya say to coming down and having dinner tonight? That way you can meet my wife. We'll probably have to listen to her speech ten times, but you'll be able to relax a little. We usually have dinner around eight-thirty. I know it's a bit late but it's what we do." Etta shrugged, though at this point it seemed to Diana that her guest was rambling more to herself than Diana.

There was a long pause. Diana couldn't decide if Etta was inviting her out of pity, or because this was just the way she was. Now that she wasn't a princess anymore, Diana had learned the hard way, that people very rarely did something because they wanted to be nice. Hell, even when she was a princess people treated her well, but it was probably only because of her status. Authenticity was hard to gage.

In the real world, when you're a nobody, people consume you until your fire flickers out.

The silence had stretched on uncomfortably, and so to break it Etta added, "If we're lucky my son might grace us with his presence. He's in his junior year at GCU. Sometimes he pops in for sustenance, before he goes out and paints the town red with his friends. He uses us for free food on Saturdays." She leaned in and whispered the last part conspiratorially.

Diana raised her brows dubiously. "You're okay with me being around him? I mean in my condition?"

Etta's laugh burst out of her with a woosh. "Lighten up. You're pregnant, not a leper." She picked up Diana's arm and made a big show of inspecting her skin. "You seem fine. No ticks or mites." She gasped dramatically, "Maybe you're an alien!"

At this point Diana's face was bright red. "It's just that… people assume things because I'm pregnant this young and they haven't been the kindest." She sniffed and wiped her nose.

"People are stupid. You're young. Shit happens — not saying the baby is shit, he's obviously an angel — everyone needs somebody and deserves a second chance, okay? Now come on." Etta enlaced her fingers with Diana's and stood up pulling the girl along with her.

Diana looked at their hands, Etta's chunky dark fingers woven through her thin white ones. Their hands were so different, but somehow they fit.

This was it, this was the universe throwing her it's proverbial bone, and Diana would be damned if she didn't catch it.

xXxXx

"Hey." Steve leaned in to Diana and nudged her shoulder with the side of his arm. Her body swayed with the motion, then her head snapped towards him and she let out a dry chuckle. Steve made a face and stuck his tongue out at her then said, "Am I really boring you that much? Man, I might need to step up my game, I can't even get girls to listen to me now."

"I'm sorry," Diana smiled ruefully and her full eyebrows crinkled adorably. "I was thinking about when I met Etta. I mean... I still don't know how I was lucky enough to meet all of you when I did." Steve raised his hand to protest, but Diana shushed him with a look. "I mean it, Steven. I don't know where Jason and I would even be without you guys. Your moms have helped me so much. And you." Her eyes met Steve's and his cheeks crimsoned ever so slightly. "You've been with me every single time I had to go to the hospital with Jason. He looks up to you so much. It means a lot to me that you're always there for him."

"You know I love him. He's a great kid. You guys are family now. You don't thank family, you just show up for 'em." Steve shrugged ineffectually. A quick, yet laid back gesture that seemed to say, "Don't worry about it. It's no big deal." He didn't do it at this time, but Diana knew him well enough to know that if they were facing each other, instead of sitting side by side, that he would do the limp hand wave that he often did when he tried to accept a compliment modestly. Contrary to his nonchalant body language though, his smile was full and bright.

Steve lifted up his arm and put it around Diana pulling her closer into him, he was shocked when he felt her resisting him. He cocked a brow and looked down at her, questioningly. "My hair's wet. You'll get soaked." She said, although, she took it back and gave in as he saw his unamused expression. "Fine fine. Don't complain when your sweater gets wet, though." Diana tucked herself into his side savoring the warmth and safety of the arms of her friend.

They sat there holding each other for a while in what Diana thought was comfortable silence, when Steve eventually sighed loudly.

"What's wrong?" Diana's brows furrowed as she pulled back and looked at him. He was giving her that tight lipped, one sided smile of his, the one that in all of the years that Diana knew him was always the precursor to bad news.

Diana gave him a reassuring squeeze and smiled kindly at him. "Just say it. It's the money, no? We lost two clients this month, I've been turning down lots of the brand deals on Instagram and we had to replace our camera." She pulled her arm away from Steve and tucked it against her belly. "We didn't make a profit this month."

Steve's pursed lips twisted slightly. He was thoughtful for a moment then said, "That's part of it, yes."

"I couldn't do the Instagram ads, Steve. They wanted me to 'sex it up'," She embellished the last part with air quotations. It was true, the spokespersons for the brands told her exactly that, then when a week or two later the photos from other social media influencers, who had a similar audience to Diana's, all appeared on her feed in very skimpy bikinis with their bodies arched in various positions that shouldn't have anything to do with the products they were advertising, Diana knew that she'd made the right decision.

Steve was quiet for a long time. Diana wanted to tell him that she didn't want to have to resort to selling her body, in that way, but she knew she wouldn't have to because he felt the same way.

Yes, her body was the "face" of their brand. Steve thought up their workout routines, diet plans and did their bookkeeping, however, Diana was the one whose body was proof of the results that their clients could have. But she wanted the hard work and sweat that she put into her body to be what drew people to her work, not just her tits and ass. If she just became like any other pretty girl on Instagram, then their brand probably wouldn't last long enough for them to reach their goals.

And they had big plans for themselves in the future. They wanted to open a wellness centre. They didn't just want some gym where people came to work out. They wanted a facility where people could come and have a holistic approach to their health; where they could treat their mind body and soul. That's why they busted their asses training all their clients, and managing their blog and social media, but the money was trickling in. And so, a few months earlier, they'd decided to advertise for other companies. Diana already had a large social media following and they needed more money, so it seemed like a good solution. But it felt more and more like if the sponsorships were pulling them further and further away from their goals.

"Just tell me how bad it is, Steve. Dr. Brennan increased Jason's dosage last week after his last episode. My insurance won't cover it. I need to find the money bef —"

"Before you have to fill his next prescription, I know. I've been thinking about that." Diana noticed the way his jawline bulged and flattened as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. His waist twisted as he swivelled his barstool to face Diana, he leaned over, elbows pressing into his knees. Diana followed suit and looked up at him, white teeth chewing into her plump lower lip. "We'll pay for the meds with the business credit card. But we still need to figure out everything else."

"What if we just do one of the stupid posts?"

"Out of the question, we're not selling sex we're selling health." Steve rubbed his head frustratedly then placed his hands on Diana's knees, his gaze meeting hers. "Look, an opportunity came up. It's literally the most amazing business deal that we've ever had, but you'll hate it."

Diana's face scrunched in confusion. "I mean, if I don't have to get my boobs out, it can't be that bad, can it?" Steve's face was shuffling through the plethora of human emotions, but Diana's patience was running thin. She pulled back abruptly and sat up, putting more space between the both of them. "By the Gods, Will you just spit it out!" And so Steve did as he was told. He told her about the phone call that came while she was busy speaking with the doctor last week when Jason was in the ER. He told her that Wayne Enterprises was looking to rebrand their company's image to seem more youthful and modern. That they'd just remodeled their tech division and they wanted their employees to enjoy a full package of benefits. The idea being that if their design team was well rested and happy, that they could keep their productivity levels up. And one of those benefits would be having facilities in their offices that their employees could turn to, to get the help that they might need.

This was where Steve and Diana came in.

Wayne Enterprises wanted to have a few different gyms and fitness facilities available at their newly built tech campus and wanted to work with people who fit in with their brand: Young, Innovative and Goal Oriented. The talent scouts at the company had come across Steve and Diana's website and their Instagram account and decided that they would be a perfect fit. They would have an interview process, of course, but Steve was confident that they'd get it. "Basically we'd be getting our own place, just like we've always talked about. We will have to train employees, organize some group classes and help the cafeteria staff come up with meal plans, so that employees have access to healthier food, but we're still allowed to keep our current clients and let them use the facilities too. Basically, we'll just be contracted to Wayne Enterprises, but we will retain the creative freedom to continue our brand how we want to," Steve said. He sat back in his seat and waited with his eyes winced preparing for the verbal onslaught that he was sure would be coming his way, instead there was only silence.

"I'm sorry, I thought you said, Wayne Enterprises." Was all she said eventually. She was serious too. Steve could see it in her eyes; she truly thought that he had mistaken the company's name, that was how far out of left field this whole thing was for them.

"That's because I did, Diana." Steve replied. Diana's eyes were vacant and she was nodding her head slowly. The motion didn't seem to say that Diana actually understood what Steve had said and that she was agreeing with him, but rather, more like if she was processing the information he'd just given her. Diana was gripping the glass with her smoothie so tightly that her knuckles were turning bright white.

"I'm sorry, Steve but I literally have no idea how you could even think that this is an option for us." She eventually stopped strangling the glass and pushed it away, then continued, You know how I feel about Bruce Wayne." She looked at him full on, a pale fire burning in her eyes. Her voice rose several octaves on the 'Wayne'. Steve always thought that that name was a bit like Lord Voldemort's around Diana. Bruce was the 'He who must not be named' of Diana's world, hell, they even met in boarding school.

"Yeah, but we won't be directly working neither with him, nor for him. We'll be contracted to the Tech Division. Besides, Bruce hasn't been seen in Gotham for more than a year."

Diana shot up and out of her seat like a bullet out of a slingshot, momentarily towering over Steve. "You say that. But he owns the company that would hypothetically be paying our salaries. So we will be working for him."

"That's false. They'll be paying our company, EatRunLift, and then our company will pay us," Steve tried to reason. Diana was pacing back and forth, now, in the space between the kitchen where the appliances were, and the island counter where Steve was still sitting. Her uncombed, black curls seemed to writhe like snakes as they glided over her shoulders and torso with her movements. Her hands squeezed into tight fists.

"Look, stop it with the technicalities. I'd rather be on Instagram naked than have to go to him for money, Steve. Jason and I have made it this far without him. What if he finds out about Jason? Did you think about that? Do you understand what you're asking of me?"

"He's not going to find out about Jason, Diana. We'll protect him. It's a job; our private lives have nothing to do with them."

"You don't know Bruce, Steve. He'll find out about Jason. Oh God —" Diana clasped her open palm over her mouth terror dawning on her face. "What if he wants to take him away from me?" Diana stopped pacing and tightened her arms around her torso, just over the sliver of skin exposed by her crop top. She suddenly felt naked and cold. Her chin was wobbling even though Steve could tell she was trying to keep control of her emotions. If it was one thing he knew about Diana after all of their years together, it was that only two things — or rather persons — in this world could ever get her this riled up, Jason and his father, Bruce Wayne.

Steve slipped off his stool and in two strides was standing in front of Diana. He placed his hands on her upper arms and squeezed them once. His head tilted down as he tried to get her to meet his eyes. When she eventually looked at him, the tears that Diana was fighting to hold in were flooding her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She'd shed enough tears for Bruce Wayne, those days were over.

Steve swallowed thickly.

"I would never let Bruce take Jason from you. Do you understand me? Never." His voice held a finality that was cold and dangerous. Diana believed him. She knew Steve. She knew he would protect her and her son forever. But Steve couldn't begin to understand how ugly Bruce could be when he had his mind set on something.

Steve grew up in a working class family and believed that life was fair if you played by the rules. He didn't know that for the wealthy like Bruce, that rules were meaningless because the world was his playground. When money talks there was no such thing as right or wrong or fair. Just a price.

Not to mention that nothing good could ever come of Diana and Bruce being close to each other again.

When they were happy they were the kind of couple that made people think that they were perfect. People admired their perfection. But, in reality, when Bruce and Diana came together it was like a neutron star collision; they burned bright with unhindered chaos and raw beauty, but after they'd consumed each other all that was left was a supermassive black hole.

Diana blinked hard to clear the burning tears. Steve pulled her into his chest and ran his arms soothingly up and down her back. "Look, forget I mentioned it, okay? We'll think of something else."

Something else? Diana wondered. But how? They were barely getting by as it was. Not to mention that she'd just moved Jason to a private school, where the class sizes were small enough that the teachers could pay extra attention to him given his condition.

"What other options do we have if we don't go to the interview?" Diana stepped closer to, her friend, "I mean, if we continue the way we are right now, how long before we go under?"

Steve released Diana's arms and ran a shaky hand through his messy blond hair. "Three months if we don't change anything. But we can figure it out — we have before —forget I mentioned the interview. It was stupid."

"Here's what we'll do." Diana couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice when she spoke. She couldn't help but marveling, not for the first time, how truly selfless Steve was when it came to her. Was it fair of her to force him to give up his dreams because of her hatred for a guy who probably didn't even remember she existed? "We'll go to the interview and hear what they have to say, I can't keep you from this. It's important to you."

"It really is, Diana." Diana could hear the excitement in his voice, though she could tell that he was trying to keep himself calm. He wrapped himself even tighter around her and his words vibrated comfortingly through her. "If Bruce appears, we'll deal with him like we've dealt with everything in the last few years. Together. It's us against the world, kid. Don't ever forget that."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you like it, or even if you don't please leave some feedback as I've never written anything before and I'd like to improve in anyway I can. But please be gentle.**

 **Up Next: We'll find out what Bruce has been up to and meet Clark.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm so happy that you guys enjoyed the first chapter. Thanks so much for the feedback, I hope that I don't let you all down with this story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these amazing characters. I'm just obsessed with them.**

* * *

 _ **Two**_

* * *

 _Gotham City now..._

The rain storms had finally let up when Bruce's flight touched down that Saturday morning. In lieu of showers, there was a dank, dense, grey fog that was blanketing the city. Clark almost smiled at the irony. Somehow, Gotham's weather and his best friend were foils for each other. Much like the city, in the calm of the storm, Bruce's mood was often as murky as the Gotham air.

It was odd to say the least, that Bruce had called Clark, instead of arranging with Alfred, his butler, to pick him up from the airport. Clark's phone started vibrating at the ungodly hour of eleven past six that morning. Nevertheless, he had rolled up out of bed and grumbled into the phone that he would be there to collect Bruce. He had gotten dressed to the sounds of Lois groaning for him to turn off the light.

Clark shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited just outside of baggage claim. Like most mornings, since he'd healed from his accident, his left knee took a while to warm up and he'd have to toddle around with a limp until the pain lessened. It probably didn't help that his knee had to support just under two hundred pounds and his six foot frame. And it definitely didn't help that the cold air in the airport felt like it was seeping into his bones and adding to his torment. He was about to turn around and find a seat when he heard his name being called out.

He took a while to notice Bruce in the crowd. For one thing, the massive black and yellow hiking pack that he was wearing, was forcing Bruce to walk with his body hunched forward, like Quasimodo. Then there was the fact that he also had a smaller knapsack hooked onto the front of his torso like a baby carrier. This in itself made Clark overlook Bruce initially, because from the distance where he was standing, the bag did, indeed, look like a baby and if there was one thing that Clark knew about his best friend it was that Bruce Wayne hated children. Once his eyes rebounded on Bruce, after scanning the crowd of people exiting baggage claim, Clark had to squint, but he eventually did recognize his friend.

Bruce's face was covered in a thick beard that Clark had never seen before and he was wearing a worn out sweater and stained sweatpants, nothing like the primp crisp pressed shirts, slacks and ties that he usually wore. Nevertheless, Clark's smile was broad and genuine as his friend approached him.

"I never thought the day would come when Bruce Wayne would be coming off of a regular airplane," Clark said by way of greeting. The two men awkwardly exchanged hugs as best they could despite the bulbous protrusions of the two bags.

Bruce pulled back from the hug, then said, "I know. I had to slum it in Business Class, for twelve whole hours." Bruce had the audacity to look disgusted. Clark threw Bruce a dirty look, although he knew Bruce wasn't exaggerating, for when a person owned two private jets and a mega yacht, business class really was slumming it.

Clark was tempted to ask why Bruce would take a regular flight, especially if it bothered him so much. But he figured that Bruce just didn't want the paparazzi to appear for as long as he could possibly hold them off, during his weekend visit. If he was on a regular airline, people would probably just assume that he looked like someone they knew, but they would never actually think that he was _the_ Bruce Wayne.

From the very day he was born, Bruce's life in Gotham had been a public soap opera. From his birth into the city's first family, to the tragic unsolved murder of his parents, not to mention the wild and awkward phase he went through as a teenager. The Gotham tabloids were always prepped to ignore him at his best but shine the spotlight on him at his worst. Bruce loved Gotham, but sometimes, it was just simply easier for him to be away from the city. Everyday always felt like a ticking time bomb counting down to when the press would dig out new dirt on the playboy billionaire or his friends. Bruce certainly didn't garner any sympathy for himself considering that he was almost always pictured in extravagant parties inebriated and with his arm slung around whichever girl happened to be his pick of the week.

"Now you know what it's like to be one of us mere mortals." Clark said with a chuckle. He motioned for Bruce to start following him towards his beat up pickup truck. Bruce bit his tongue; it had started rusting in the year's time that he hadn't seen it. He'd been trying for years to get Clark to allow him to buy him a new car — he would even settle for one from a used car dealership — but Clark was adamant that his old truck was perfect.

When they got to the truck, Clark took Bruce's backpacking pack and chucked it into the backseat, then made his way over to the driver's side. Bruce hesitated at the passenger's door and inhaled the cold air deeply. He was happy to be back in Gotham. Even if his stay would be only for a couple of days. It felt good to be home.

"You wanna drop by a coffeeshop before I take you home? We can grab a bite and catch up for a little bit. If I go home and make the tiniest peep now, Lois might kill me for waking her again."

"Well, she never really was a morning person." Bruce laughed as he sat down (with more grace than should be allowed from someone built like a linebacker) and slammed the car door shut. Lois was his oldest friend. He remembered his mother teaching him the meaning of the phrase, 'let sleeping dogs lie' from all the times Lois beat the shit out of him when he woke her up by accident during their sleepovers. "Does she know I'm back in town?"

"Nah, she still thinks you're in Tibet chilling with the monks. She'll lose it when she sees you. I'm so happy you came." Clark looked over at his friend and patted him on the shoulder. Then he started the truck and they headed out of the airport parking lot.

Around twenty minutes later, after they'd walked into a relatively deserted Starbucks near the Gotham Stock Exchange and settled into a window seat at the back, Clark said, "Are you going to tell me why you sent for me instead of Alfred this morning? Is everything alright."

The aroma of the warm pastries and coffee they'd ordered was comforting on the cold February morning. Clark watched as Bruce chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, then eventually his friend reached into his backpack, which was sitting on the free chair next to him, and slapped a large binder onto the wobbly table in front of Clark.

"Read this."

"Did some light reading on the flight over here?" Clark lifted his brows. "This is as thick as a brick, man. It's seven-thirty on a Saturday morning. I love you, bro. I do. But staying in bed next to my beautiful girlfriend is way more exciting than this."

"There's a paperclip marking the section, you need to look at. Flip through it and tell me if you see anything that stands out to you."

"I'm not even gonna ask why you thought a paperclip would be one of the necessities for when you go backpacking," Clark said, his eyes skimming over the pages as he sped read them.

"It was delivered with the binder — but truly — there are infinite possibilities." Clark looked up as he waited for Bruce's explanation. "They are virtually weightless and barely take up any space. I can use one as a bookmark. Case in point," he gestured with an open hand towards the binder. "A weapon of self defense. Or to pick locks." Bruce said all of this while casually stirring the sugar into his black coffee.

Clark's eyes snapped up at Bruce and he grinned cheekily, mischief sparkling in his deep blue eyes. "There you have it ladies and gentlemen the richest man in America goes backpacking through third world countries with a tool to pick locks." Clark scoffed and rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, then continued, "You know that's the exact opposite of how this story should go, right?"

"Look, just shut up and read." Bruce looked at him pointedly.

"I'm not sure exactly what I'm supposed to be looking for, here." Clark said, unfazed. He took his dear time (according to Bruce) leafing through the unmarked pages. The binder was a summation of all the new and upcoming projects within Wayne Enterprises. When Clark finally got to the section that Bruce had marked off, it was titled, 'Prospective Contractors.'

"When you see it you'll know. I don't wanna say anything just in case I'm losing my fucking mind." Clark looked over at his friend perplexed but kept silent as he continued flipping through the pages. Bruce was pumping his right leg up and down like a jackhammer he was so nervous.

What if he was wrong? He had to be wrong, right? It couldn't be her because there was no way she'd be in Gotham — her people only got off the island on specific days for specific reasons. And even if she was doing her duty, or whatever she was doing, why would she be in Gotham? She'd spent the entire time they were in boarding school in Metropolis, bitching about the weather. And honestly, when compared with Gotham, Metropolis' climate seemed paradisiacal.

"Oh my God. It's her." Clark's voice, pulled Bruce out of his thoughts and back to the present. Bruce straightened up and tried to stop fidgeting but he still reached into his pocket where he knew his pearl was, and started rolling it between his index and thumb. "Diana Prince. She goes by Prince now. Why?"

"'Of Themyscira' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. Besides, the Amazon's are super secretive, you know that." Bruce tried to sound relaxed, Clark was too distracted to notice the way his friend meticulously arranged the cutlery on his napkin until they were perfectly parallel, then started fiddling with the ends of the lace hanging from his hoodie all while his right hand was still in his pocket rolling the pearl so fast that the friction was creating heat.

"She's living here, then?"

Bruce had to clear his throat. "I can't see why else, she'd be applying for work with my company."

"And this guy? This…" Clark's eyes popped down to the page then ricocheted back up again. "Steven Trevor."

Bruce shrugged, "It says that they're partners. I don't know anything else.

"Oh look, they printed their links here. I'm going to check out her Instagram." Clark reached into his pocket for his iPhone, his car keys and other paraphernalia jingling around in his search. Bruce tried to stay calm as he looked on, but the small pearl was not enough to contain his nervous energy, so he released it. His palms were sweating. He passed them up and down his sweatpants a few times to dry them off. His foot was still hopping maniacally. The frantic lub dub of his heartbeat mounted to his temples, drowning out the sounds around him.

Clark was silent as he typed in her Instagram handle. Bruce could make out the moment when he started scrolling through the pictures by the sliding of his thumb on his touch screen and the slight slackening of his jaw. Clark was in shock, Bruce could tell that it wasn't the shock from a scandal; his best friend's face was still calm. It was more like the 'holy shit it's really her!' kind of expression. Clark was easier to read than an alphabet chart.

"What's with all the kids?"

"Kids?"

"You didn't look here?"

Bruce shook his head. How could I? He wanted to ask Clark. Especially since his best friend knew that the past six years — the drinking, the parties, the women — had all been a sorry excuse to forget about her.

Her touch, her smell, her voice, her laugh.

God… he remembered everything.

"Here." Clark handed him the phone and Bruce's eyes zeroed in on her instantly, like a moth to a flame

There she was.

It was her, there was no doubt about that. No other girl in this world could have that head of hair.

Her hair was the first thing that drew Bruce to her when they were teenagers and the same could be said of right now.

Full and heavy; the weight of it always pulled her roots straight but exaggerated all of her curls to the bottom half of its length. Black as night. Luxuriant and oh so shiny.

He was surprised to find that her hair still attracted him so much. But then again, how could it not; even now Bruce remembered how her locks felt flowing through his hands. Impossibly soft and too smooth to hold on to — like grabbing water. He remembered how he used to part the strands at the nape of her neck with a nudge of his nose. He could smell her now... lemongrass.

God… he remembered everything.

She was one of the reasons he had to go away for the past year. He was drowning in a sea of memory. Of her, of his parents — of all the people he destroyed by loving them. And now, after all this time Diana was literally coming to him.

It took Bruce a while to recall that he was supposed to be looking for the kids. There were lots of them actually. He had to read a few of her captions to find out that she taught children's yoga classes on Saturdays with some of the kids of Gotham's Epilepsy foundation. Though, a little boy with brown hair and a girl with a curly afro were featured a lot more frequently than the others in her photos. These two in particular, were always making faces or doing complicated acrobatic yoga poses with Diana, so it was hard to tell what they actually looked like.

Bruce's smile was radiant. Clark hadn't seen him smile like that in years.

"Diana…" her name escaped his lips like a prayer. Reverently, respectfully, as though his life depended on those three syllables. Bruce tore his eyes away from the screen and handed the phone back to Clark. "She's the same, but so different too."

"Yeah. None of the crazy jewelry from before. Do you remember her bracelets? Gosh, they were so obnoxious but _so_ her. And that gold armband." Clark half chuckled half sighed.

"I remember everything," Bruce said solemnly. Clark looked at his friend strangely, but Bruce's eyes were glazed over. Too caught up in a milky way of time and memories. In the silence that followed Clark started spreading cream cheese onto his bagel to wait Bruce out. Clark knew that when Bruce was deep in thought a conversation with his friend could be like pulling teeth. He was halfway through eating it when Bruce started talking again.

"I have to sit in on their interview."

Clark swallowed then said, "I thought you were only going to stay in town for Lo's birthday, then leave again on Monday."

"I was… but I have to see her, man. I can't believe that she's been right here all this time. Right under my nose."

"That's a bad idea, Bruce. She's been away from Themyscira but she hasn't tried to get in touch with us. Just leave her be. She doesn't want to see us. Especially not you." Clark offered a kind smile to blunt the edge of his sharp words. "I think we both know that she doesn't want to see you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" All Clark offered in response was a look. Bruce clenched his jaw, his grey eyes piercing into Clark's. Peripherally, his eyes caught Diana's picture in the binder that had been pushed aside, and he slammed it shut with a resounding thump into the empty coffeehouse. Their barista peeped out from the kitchen looking worried. But Clark shook his head and smiled gently at her to let her know that they didn't need anything. "God you always sided with her. Even now you're doing it. Why can't you support me just once?"

"You were the one who hurt her over and over again. You didn't want to commit to her. Didn't want to be emotionally available, but you wanted her to give you one hundred percent. You led her on and on then you pulled the same crap you always do when things get hard for you. You cut her out of your life. So don't try to lecture me about supporting you. You were the one who broke up with her. Or maybe you forgot?"

Forgot? Was Clark always this dumb or maybe it was that Bruce was only just noticing. He almost snorted out loud, so ludicrous was his friend's suggestion. Bruce longed for the loss of memory. He'd been trying for the last six years to forget her tears the last time he saw her. Or the way her voice broke on his name when she begged him to let her into his apartment so that they could talk.

God… he remembered everything.

"I didn't —" Bruce's face reddened and his demeanour flared up as he started to retaliate in self defense, but Clark cut him off.

"She came to me whenever she was upset, B. And, just for the record, I sided with her because, to you, she was just a game. But she was in for the long haul. All she wanted was to love you and you made her suffer for that." Clark's eyes narrowed to slits, he could feel his anger building. God… how many arguments they'd had throughout the years all because Bruce could never own up to his mistakes.

"Is that how you ended up in bed together? Because she was upset." Bruce meant to sound calm but he couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice. Clark did a double take. This conversation was going off the rails and fast. Bruce wasn't even being coherent anymore.

"Gosh, you're still upset about that? Dude, I literally payed for that with my blood." Clark gestured to his knee. His fist clenched and unclenched on the table. Bruce shifted awkwardly in his seat, his eyes screwed shut. "My whole life I've been paying for that night and all I was doing was being a good friend. I'll say this for the millionth time… nothing happened between us."

When Bruce finally reopened his eyes it was to scowl and look out of the window. His eyes blended in with the greyness of the Gotham skyline so much, that it was impossible to tell if the glassiness they took on was natural, or from his irises reflecting the bleak outdoors.

"She was crying and I was comforting her. Then we fell asleep," Clark continued. "She asked me to keep a secret and I respected that. I still respect it. But I forgot how it is with you. No excuse is ever good enough. Everyone who loves you is just in some big conspiracy to hurt you, right? Call a cab to take you home." Clark threw some money on the table and started standing up.

"Please don't go. I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean for it to go this way. Fuck! It's just that… " Bruce pulled at his hair with both hands in frustration.

Clark's blue eyes honed in on Bruce's. He stared at him for a while, silently reading his friend then said, "It's Diana." He, nodded his head knowingly in agreeance with himself, after a pause, he exhaled loudly and slumped back into his seat. "I guess the more things change the more they stay the same, huh?"

Bruce dropped his forearms on the table in front of them and commenced fiddling with the cutlery again. He smiled sadly at Clark. "All we've seen is her photo and we're already fighting about her. Just like the good old days."

"You never had to worry about me with her, Bruce. I've only ever had eyes for Lois, you should know that by now." Clark's voice was painfully sincere.

He knew, but the thing is that Bruce was never rational when it came to Diana. It just wasn't in the realm of possibilities for him. She, the Princess of a people torn from the pages of legend. She who gave her heart too recklessly and smiled too freely. She who was larger than life. She could choose anyone, back then, and for some reason she chose him.

Bruce Wayne. Orphan. Fucked up. He knew it wasn't fair to hold her perfection against her. But he couldn't help himself because he was broken. And when that brokenness was ready to show itself — when Bruce bared his mangled and wretched soul — there were always casualties caught in the crossfire.

It was funny to think about how much he resisted her initially. It was completely moot and a waste of energy: one does not simply resist a force of nature. He remembered the late summer heat that heralded her arrival at the Cadmus Academy for Gifted Minds.

xXxXx

He was cutting class when he first laid eyes on Diana Prince. Lois had been reporting her leads to them for weeks. Though, tried as he had to not partake in the gossip, even Bruce wasn't impervious to the whispers that lodged themselves into his brain. Some of the rumours were downright ludicrous at this point, but since the Princess had been given two weeks off of classes to settle in and get rid of her jet lag, she seemed more like a phantom than an actual teenaged girl.

The school was filled with the children of America's elite, and of kids who'd made substantial contributions to the world of Arts and Science, but all of that seemed lowly to the arrival of actual royalty. Not to mention that the Princess came from the most secretive and neutrally governed country in the world, so there was bound to be a bit of a mania over her arrival.

It wasn't unusual for Bruce to cut class; Alfred had gotten so many letters about it that the school didn't even bother to send them anymore. Bruce often tried to reason with Alfred that school was beneath him. There was nothing he could learn at Cadmus that he couldn't teach himself at home, but his butler (and guardian) was adamant that Bruce be in a safe environment with people his own age. An environment where he didn't have to worry about making mistakes and the tabloids documenting every single moment of it.

His intention that afternoon was to sneak, without being spotted, from the boys' common room all the way to the library to borrow some new books. He'd gotten more than halfway without incident. Then when he turned a corner, from the gardens to the archway leading to the quadrangle of the main school building, in the hopes of slipping past the classrooms, he saw two people. The Vice Principal, and resident pain in Bruce's ass, Maxwell Lord, and a tall dark haired girl that he'd never seen before.

On any usual day Mister Lord would've probably grabbed Bruce by his shirt collar and dragged him to his office, but of course with his exceptional luck Bruce had walked in on something that, while he wished he hadn't seen it, would actually grant safe passage to the library without detention.

Lord was standing close, too close to the girl especially considering the vast expanse of the empty hallways now that classes were in session. The man's crude yellow teeth were pulled back in a smile that was so unnatural for his face that it looked painful. Most disturbingly however, was that we was whispering something to her and twirling a lock of her long curly hair around his forefinger, every time she would take a step back away from him, Lord would step closer.

Bruce's face creased in disgust. This was the grossest thing he'd seen in a long time (and yes he was in fact including the time, last semester when Clark had food poisoning and threw up chunks of hotdogs on the floor of their dorm). He felt like his feet were glued to the marble floors. He didn't know whether to turn back around or confront the Vice Principal. There were murmurs of him being a pervert all over campus, but, until now, Bruce hardly thought they were actually true.

Bruce straightened his posture and started to give himself a mental pep talk to go and break up the scene, when the Princess turned her head away from the Vice Principal her stunning blue eyes widening in horror as she saw Bruce.

True fear flashed on Mister Lord's face for a second before he composed himself and plastered a fake smile on his face and said, "Ah! Bruce my boy! Come over here." He waved Bruce towards them then said to the girl, "He's one of our best students, Diana." Diana's only response was to put two large steps between herself and the Vice Principal.

"Bruce Wayne, this is Diana. She's come all the way from Europe to be with us." Mister Lord said, in that God awful nasally voice of his.

"Nice to meet you, Diana," Bruce stuck his hand out for Diana to take. She clasped his hand for a fraction of a second and pulled it away. The Princess looked at Bruce like he was an annoying child then wiped her hand vehemently on her denim shorts. A faint scent of lemongrass blew over to him as a breeze sweeped through the quadrangle.

"Your palm is sweaty." Diana chided in the same tone that one might use to accuse another of murder. An intense blush bloomed on Bruce's cheeks and his eyes dropped to his shoes.

"Well — uh — now that you guys are introduced," Maxwell Lord's voice broke into the awkward tension. "Why don't you let Bruce here, finish the tour with you Diana."

"Is that really necessary?" She retorted, as she turned her face towards the older man. Her accent was so thick that she seemed to sound like a stereotype of a Greek person on TV.

"It's a very large campus and I do have a lot of work to get back to." Lord insisted clearly looking for an escape.

"Fine then." She seemed bored as she looked at Bruce who was quietly making a mental note to use the Princess as an example in his defense for whenever Alfred was lecturing him for being rude.

"Right… well hurry up then." Bruce's voice was as dry as hers as he started walking off. If she wanted to be sullen, then two could play that game. Sullenness was his coping mechanism for life.

* * *

 **A/N: Well there you have it. I hope you enjoyed Bruce and Clark's conversation and Diana and Bruce meeting for the first time.**

 **I'm sorry if you think these chapters are too long, I'm trying to give snippets of the present and the past at the same time. If you guys don't like the flashbacks then let me know and I'll leave them out. If things seem a bit confusing, don't worry everything will be explained in due time.**

 **I was able to write this chapter a lot faster than I had thought I'd be able to. But just to be safe, let's set an update schedule of every two weeks (but sometimes earlier if we're lucky).**

 **Next up: We will meet Jason for the first time and have Diana and Steve setting up at Wayne Tech.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Special thanks to the amazing SaultNPeppah for betaing this chapter for me. She has tons of amazing stories on here (but you already knew that!) so please do check them out.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these amazing characters. I'm just obsessed with them.**

* * *

 ** _Three_**

* * *

 _Gotham City now..._

There was a showdown in the lobby; the scraggy boy and the girl with a lion's mane for hair.

She stared him down, her hazel eyes tightening into a leer, her hands perched on her hips. "Well, I think you're a dummy and your hair looks silly."

Two pale hands zoomed up to his head and he tried to flatten it under his palms to hide it from her, but all it did was expose the dinosaur Band Aid on his forehead. His cheeks flushed.

"You're the dummy!" he retorted, with all the fervour that his little five year old heart could summon. Her eyes widened in shock, although this wasn't new heights for them; they fought at least once whenever they were together (which was basically every single day) but for some inane reason, the exchanged insults always stung both parties with shocking intensity.

The greying woman seated at the reception desk of the yoga studio, who was casually scrolling through her phone, seemed uninterested in 'throwing an eye on them' as the boy's young mother had asked her to. Diana had made the request with a breezy smile and a shout for the children to behave as she dashed back into the changing room where she'd forgotten their coats, then she had gone to lock up the room that she had used for class that morning.

Of course, as it is almost universally accepted, when you tell a child to behave, the child will always take it as permission to do the exact opposite.

"At least I don't have cooties!" The little girl seemed proud of that retort and naturally, she smirked spitefully.

The boy's face puffed angrily and his hands formed into fists at his sides. He could tolerate his appearance and intelligence being criticised, but he drew the line at cooties.

"Take it back!"

"No!"

He was on her in a flash, with the impact of his hands on her chest causing her to fall back on the ground. He climbed on top of her, shaking her shoulders roughly. "Take. It. Back." he said through gritted teeth. He shook her with each word and her body flopped about like a rag doll.

The receptionist rolled her eyes and scrolled on, unbothered.

"Iasonas! Jessie!"

Jason froze. His hands flew back from Jessie's shoulders and he pushed himself up and off of her. He knew his mother meant serious business when she used his Greek name.

Diana threw the children's outerwear on one of the turquoise Acapulco chairs lined up on the western wall of the large lobby. Then she rushed over, her long braid swishing back and forth with her movements, and kneeled to help Jessie up off of the floor before she did a once over of the girl to make sure that she wasn't injured.

"I leave you two for thirty seconds and you're fighting." She turned to Jason. In that moment her face seemed as though it was carved from marble; pale and beautiful, yet stone cold. "You are my son. You're supposed to set an example. You think the other kids in these classes are going to listen to me if you don't?"

"But Mama —"

"That's not an excuse."

"But —"

"Neither is whatever you're going to say now." The soft rolling of her 'r's' was even more exaggerated when she was mad.

"How come you get to talk but I don't? It's not fair!" Jason sulked and his hands folded over his chest.

"Because I am your mother and when I tell you to do something, you need to listen to me. We do not hit friends. Now, come here," Diana said pulling both children closer with her arms. She was at eye level with the kids, as she was still kneeling, and her hands rubbed up and down their backs while she murmured calming words to soothe them. Jessie, who was always the first to cave, leaned her small body onto Diana's, wrapped her arms around the young woman's neck and whispered her apologies to Diana and her son. Jason on the other hand only sulked deeper and turned his head in the opposite direction. "You need to apologize too, agapi mou," Diana urged gently.

"You told me not to talk."

His mother sighed. "You're misusing my parenting skills."

There was a grumbling from the woman, who was still seated at her desk to the left of Diana and the kids. This particular receptionist was new to the studio, but like most people her age, she had the (false) idea that others loved hearing her opinions about everything. The hairs on Diana's neck stood on end, but she tried to tune out the elderly woman.

"The sooner you apologize, the sooner we can leave here and go home."

"Well, I don't wanna go home." He huffed and turned even further away from his mother.

"I know you're upset, but Jessie apologized and now it's your turn. Just say you're sorry, moro mu. She's your best friend. You were wrong for hitting her."

"She's not my best —"

"Iasonas, stop it! Just say you're sorry, for the love of the Gods!" Her voice was cold hard steel.

The grumbling started up again. Diana felt as if a rope was being tightened over her chest. Her temples started throbbing — her body's natural preemptive response, for drowning out what she knew was about to come. It always did.

"Parenting skills? Are you serious? You call that parenting? No wonder he's so rude and going around hitting little girls like that. People like you come to this country and have children just so that you can stay here and use them to mooch off of our system." The receptionist paused to stare at the trio in the middle of the room, before her eyes focused directly on Diana. Her leathery, wrinkled face set in a malicious look, meant to show the young woman just how little she thought of her. "I don't know why you people can't just go back to where you came from — and be sure to take him with you when you go. We don't need kids like him growing up here and ruining our country. Probably going to end up in jail for domestic abuse when he's older." More unintelligible grumbling came from the woman, before she said, "Telling me to throw an eye on them, like if I'm your babysitter."

Years ago, before Diana had known any better, she would have marched right up to the desk and explained to that judgemental bitch that she had already graduated with first class honors from GCU, all while working, and raising her son on her own. She would've told her that she was paying more for her son's medication every month than most people in the city paid in rent. Diana would have mentioned, that despite the receptionist's opinions, she had never once tried to apply for federal aid. She might have even reasoned that five year olds weren't perfect little angels who behaved all the time. They got angry and they had bad days just like everyone else.

But things like that didn't matter to Diana anymore. It wasn't worth it. People put her and her son in whatever box they felt like they fit in, regardless of how hard she tried, or how much she reasoned with them. She was always labeled as a slut; the evidence for this apparent crime: being the young and beautiful mother of one. Or as a thieving immigrant because she was from a foreign country.

It never mattered to people that at twenty-two, she was on the cusp of success now that she and Steve had gotten their big contract with Wayne Tech. Nor did it matter that she was living a more responsible life than her peers, choosing to stay in instead of going out and getting drunk every weekend. Nobody cared that her son was reading and writing at a first grade level, despite the fact that he missed more school than his classmates. Diana lived her entire life for him — the last time she even went on a date was before he was born, but no matter what, people only saw her failures.

Diana didn't care as much when the insults were thrown at her as she was an adult and she could defend herself. But attacks on Jason always made her livid. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying some pranayama to calm down. "Go put on your coats, guys," she said as she shot the kids a watery smile that did little to reassure them.

"Aren't you going to thank me?"

Diana's head fell backwards as she scoffed. She blinked so hard that white stars were bursting behind her eyelids. "For what?"

"For looking after them."

Diana was seeing red as she stood up, purposefully refusing to look at the woman. The only thing that was keeping her from losing it, were the two children in her care. How could she lose her temper when she was scolding them for losing theirs? Jessie and Jason were both wide eyed and whispering to each other as they put on their coats. Diana took another deep breath and rubbed her temples trying to calm herself down. She wasn't going to waste her breath to engage with this woman.

When the kids walked back to her, Diana straightened their clothes, tied her puffy knit scarf, which had been hanging openly around her neck, and adjusted the strap holding her yoga mat across her back. She then lifted Jessie up and braced the girl on her hip with one arm, grabbed Jason's hand with the other and stormed out of the studio without so much as a sideways glance at the woman.

She started walking up the street to where her bike was parked. The day was as good as a February day could be in Gotham, which meant no rain, or snow, but there was still the perpetual icy wind and oppressive grey sky above them. The streets weren't too busy that Saturday morning but Diana still had to swerve in and out of the crowd as she hustled on her way to the restaurant that she knew her bike was parked in front of.

Jason was running as fast as he could, but his little legs could not keep up with his mother's exceptionally long ones.

"Mama —

"Be quiet, Jason. I'm still upset with you."

"But you're walking too fast!" The soles of his sneakers were thumping hard on the cruddy, damp sidewalk.

Diana stopped abruptly and released her son's hand. The boy immediately wrapped his arms tightly around her thigh. He made no sound but his body started convulsing as the wetness from his eyes began to seep into his mother's leggings. He was embarrassed and confused. He didn't know what domestic abuse was, but he knew it had to be bad because his mother was pissed and the mean old lady said the word 'jail'.

Her anger melted away in an instant. The silent tears like this always hurt his mother the most. They were the ones that had to — needed to — come out no matter how hard he had tried to hold them in or to hide them from her. Diana guided him next to the window display of a small bakery and set Jessie down to her feet, so that they could get out of the way of the other pedestrians. Much like in the lobby, she crouched down and held them both in her arms.

Jason's breath shuddered as he cried. "I'm s-s-sorry, Jessie. I'm sorry, Mama. I don't want to be a domes- domes- abuse."

"A domestic abuser," Diana corrected, gently placing a kiss on his brown, baby-soft hair. "I know you don't want to, agapi mou. And you won't. That lady's an idiot and she doesn't know anything."

"What does that mean?" The other five year old, Jessie, asked.

Diana turned to look at the girl, smoothing down her puffy curls. "It's a person who hits and hurts their husband, or wife, and the people who live with them." At this Jason started crying even more.

"I'll n-never hit you again, J-Jess," he said between gasps.

"You never had cooties, I was only tricking you," Jessie apologized, breaking out of Diana's hold to hug her friend. "If you've got 'em I've got 'em too 'cause we're always together." Fights between the two of them were always explosive but never actually serious. They had been together almost every single day since Etta and Barbara had started fostering Jess when she was just under a year old. It was only normal that she and Jason got on each other's nerves. When they released each other they both had tears in their eyes and Diana started to laugh.

"You two are such cry babies," Diana teased as she stood up, both of her hands outstretched, searching for their little ones. "Come on, let's go eat some lunch and I'll take you home, Jess. Etta needs to take you out to buy a new pair of shoes for Monday." The request to adopt Jessie was finally going to be approved on Monday and in true Etta fashion, it had to be done in style. She was taking the whole family shopping so that they could have matching outfits for their first official family photo, an endeavor that scandalized Steve so much that he wouldn't shut up about it all week. It almost overshadowed his excitement about them acing their interview at Wayne Tech.

"Can we have acai bowls, Ma?" Jason asked as they stopped in front of her bike. Diana did a once over making sure that everything was as it should be and that the bright red child carrier wagon that she used for the kids was still securely attached to the seat post.

"Today's really cold. You guys will be freezing if you eat those," Diana said, though she didn't really sound like she meant it. She bit her lip. Acai bowls at The Salad Bar were going to cost her more money than she was planning to spend on lunch today, although in all honesty, it was her fault for parking her bike in front of the restaurant. If Jason hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have asked. But Diana was a regular customer and Talia, the owner, always kept an eye on Diana's bike for her; something that was a huge necessity when you lived in a crime riddled city like Gotham.

"But they're so yummy." Jason licked his lips and Jessie rubbed her belly nodding along with him. How could she say no when they were so freaking cute? Despite her need to pinch pennies, she smiled and gave a sharp nod of acquiescence. After a "Woo Hoo!" of approval from one kid and a victory jump from the other, they made their way inside of the restaurant.

xXxXx

" _Why didn't you get one, Ma? You're always so hungry after yoga_ ," Jason asked her in Greek that evening, just before he crawled into bed. His mother had made it a point to include her native language in his life.

Diana sighed as she untucked his duvet and waited for him to climb under the covers. 'I couldn't afford to,' she wanted to say. Instead, she just settled for a simple, " _I wasn't in the mood. I had my salad when we got home, remember?_ " Diana gave Jason a tight lipped smile and smoothed his still-damp bangs away from his forehead. Her thumb gently swiped over the dinosaur print Band Aid that was covering the cut he got from hitting his head during his last attack. There was still some minor swelling that had accompanied the blow. Diana pouted before she pressed her lips against the cool skin of his forehead.

" _Don't worry so much, Mama. I'm okay_." His mother climbed in after him and pulled the covers up to their necks.

" _I know, but I love you so much, my little sun and stars. You can't even imagine how much it pains me when you're hurt."_ Jason smiled and his eyes lit up like the dawn. He tucked his arm against his chest and snuggled up to his mother, who in turn pulled him tight against her.

" _Will you stay until I fall asleep?_ "

" _I'll stay until your Uncle Steve comes, then I have to go talk to him about work stuff."_

They lay there, and for a while the only sounds heard was that of their breathing.

" _Mama?"_

" _Yes, my love?"_

" _Is Uncle Steve my daddy?"_ Diana pulled back in shock and blinked several timesIt was never possible to be prepared for the questions that kids asked.

" _No. Why would you think that?"_

" _It's just that Uncle Steve is always with us and all of the kids at school have two parents. Jess has two moms. Charlie has two dads and lots and lots of 'em have a mommy and a daddy. But... I only have you. Miss Stacey says that daddies are the guys who teach you how to ride a bike and play sports with you and stuff like that."_

" _I do all of those things for you, but I'm neither a guy nor your daddy."_

" _Is Miss Stacey wrong?"_

" _Let's just say that things aren't as straightforward and that she needs to broaden her mind."_

" _Oh…"_ Jason didn't really know what that meant.

There was more silence between them. It blended into the hum of the essential oil diffuser that Diana had switched on before his bath. The calming scent of lavender had been permeating through the air. He tucked his head into the crook of his mother's neck. His whisper was a ghost of hot breath against her skin.

" _Mama?"_

" _I'm here."_

" _Who's the daddy who put me in your tummy then?"_

" _How do you know about that?"_ Diana pulled away and propped herself up on her elbow. Her hair fell over them like a dark silky curtain and her brow wrinkled. They hadn't talked about the birds and the bees at all yet. Her eyes met his deep emerald ones and her thumb started to absently caress his cheek.

" _Miss Stacey."_

" _Oh… right."_ Diana hoped that Miss Stacey, his kindergarten teacher, could pick up on the curses she was telepathically sending her way. _"I'll tell you about him when you're older, okay?"_ She gathered her hair out of the way and let her head fall back onto the pillow as her arm tightened possessively around him.

" _Next month when I'm six?"_

" _Your birthday isn't next month."_ He gave her a look and clicked his tongue, annoyed. _"Well, how about when you're ten?"_ Diana added.

He groaned. That was so far away, but he knew from her tone that there was no room for discussion. _"Can you just tell me his name, please?"_

" _His name is…_ " Diana had to swallow but her throat was too dry, her voice was hoarse when she said, "Bruce."

"Bruce." Jason said it as if he wasn't sure about it. Like he needed to try that one syllable out a bit more first.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, the murmur of his father's name on his lips, and the warmth of his mother's love around him.

xXxXx

It was almost ten-thirty when Steve and Diana had stepped out on her balcony to talk that night. He had long learned that when it came to Diana, dinner was neither a meal to be had early nor rushed. On the Island, as was the case in most mediterranean countries, dinner started at nine pm at the earliest. And if it was with company, it could easily stretch on for at least three hours, with the wine flowing freely and the conversation even more so.

Diana tried to carry on the tradition as best she could, albeit the meals served were less extravagant and did not drift on for quite as much time. And of course, since her only company was usually Steve, and her son was asleep in the apartment, the wine — if served at all — was kept to a two glass maximum. Like most immigrants, her traditions were a mash-up of things she picked up from the place that she was in and the place that had she came from, but her traditions were so disconnected from either of the two, only she could claim them.

Diana pulled her duffel coat shut against the chilly night air as she leaned her forearms against the half wall barricading the balcony. Steve mirrored her posture next to her.

"He started asking about his father."

"You say that like it shocks you."

It did shock her. Was it not supposed to?

"I spent all this time creating this life for him and it's not enough."

Jason's curiosity about Bruce forced her to think about the life she had tried to make for them both. She felt like she was looking in at them… two figurines through a broken display window, that had its glass stuck back together; though everything was there, she could only see the cracks.

Like last December when she had to cry herself to sleep because Jason wasn't happy that he hadn't gotten more Christmas presents. Or all the times that she had to tell him stories about why they couldn't do something that he wanted to because she didn't have enough money. He looked at her — every single time — as if she was a fraud too; he always knew when her excuses were evasions from the truth, but for some reason she kept on telling them.

"It is enough. Don't worry about that. Jason loves you, but he's getting older and his world is expanding. I think it's normal for him to wonder about his dad. I did for years when mine left." Steve said this noncommittally but Diana knew that Steve's father was a hard topic for him. He had walked out on Barbara and him when he was just three but he would still come visit for birthdays and Christmas — that was until he learnt that Barbara had started dating another woman. After that, his dad seemed to have evaporated into thin air.

"I never wondered about my father," Diana said. Steve raised a dubious eyebrow at her. "I didn't! Mother was everything to me."

"That's because it's normal not to have fathers where you came from."

"But plenty of the girls knew their fathers and would make the trips to see them when they were older — my best friend Kasia did every weekend. But I dunno, a father was never something I wanted." Steve was silent. It was always interesting when Diana shared tidbits of the inner workings of Themyscira. "I just feel like, Bruce is ancient history. Why do we need to bring him into the present?"

"Because it's Jason's history. If he's curious he should know at least some things about Bruce. We can still protect Jason and tell him a little about Bruce."

"Bruce," she snorted. Almost six years later and he was still fucking up her life. Diana would never forgive herself for the night they had gotten wasted and naked, then reckless next to the glowing fire embers.

She had to pay so dearly for an hour of pleasure and a little bit of warmth, and Bruce had left unscathed as if it never even happened.

"Do you miss your mom?" Steve asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She smiled sadly. "So much."

"What was she like?"

Diana exhaled, her breath misting in the cold night's air. Where to start? How to describe a woman who could make the earth shake and cities fall, but yet was still gentle enough to kiss away her pain when she was little. She didn't know what side of her to tell him about so she told him all of it. She told him of her long blonde hair and her green eyes. She told him of the way her mother would make sure that they would pray together every night to the Gods, and the scent of vanilla that always clung to the air around Hippolyta. Diana had even mentioned that she used to snuggle up and sleep next to her mother every night until she was thirteen.

"Wait you prevented your mother from having sex for thirteen years?" Steve said. Diana could just barely see that mischievous dimple of his in the moonlight. She punched him playfully on his arm.

"I'm pretty sure she was having sex. Some nights she would spend away and come back late. Other nights she made it absolutely clear that I couldn't be with her. Obviously she was discreet — all parents are — but then she'd always come up to my chambers and carry me to her bed so that I could wake up in her arms. She was the best. I don't know how I got so lucky."

"Yeah, she sounds pretty nice for someone who exiled you when you needed her most," Steve said, the sarcastic undertone to his voice obvious.

"It isn't that simple. It's the law: Men aren't allowed on the island. I chose Jason over my crown."

"It's a shitty law."

"Let's not talk about it, okay? What's done is done." She said, her voice cold.

"I'm sorry." As a peace offering he fished his phone out of his pocket and showed her the schedule that he'd made for them for their first week at Wayne Tech. It went over everything from the types of classes they'd have to instruct and when, making sure he had scheduled Diana to finish at four each day so she could collect Jason after school. There were some days when they would have to have meetings with the kitchen staff to go over the menus, or with H.R. to get the feedback that the employees were giving about them.

At the end of the first week in the offices of Wayne Tech, there was going to be two team building workshops for employees to 'foster cooperation and collaboration between the workers in future projects'. Even though she and Steve weren't technically employees, they were still expected to attend. Diana was relegated to the Friday workshop while Steve would be there on Saturday.

"Who do you think the special speakers are going to be for the workshops?" Diana asked, the light from the phone screen making her blue eyes glow.

Steve scratched at his stubble. "Maybe Lucius Fox. He's the head of department and he just got back into town this morning. It was all over the news."

Diana nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right. And the other one? There's supposed to be one for each day."

"Dunno. Maybe some motivational speaker or something."

"Yeah, that would make sense. They're all about sipping that Tony Robbins flavored Kool-Aid over there," Diana said joking, but even she had to admit the methods that the managers used to encourage employees at Wayne Tech yielded results; it was one of the highest earning companies in the world. Things like that didn't just happen by chance.

Needless to say, they were both very wrong about the second guest. But only hindsight is twenty/twenty; if they were right, there would be no story.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed meeting Jason. I know a lot of nothing happens in this chapter, but I felt it was necessary to show what Diana and Jason's relationship was like before Bruce appears on the scene.**

 **Up Next: Up next we find out who the second guest speaker will be at the team building workshop and yes, it's exactly who you think it is.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful beta SaultNPeppah, for her endless patience with my overuse of the word 'that'.**

 **Thank you so much for all of the reviews on the last chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these amazing characters. I'm just obsessed with them.**

* * *

 ** _Four_**

* * *

 _Gotham City now..._

"You know Master Bruce, I think you were less nervous on your first day of school than you are today?"

Bruce's grey eyes lifted towards the front seat where Alfred, his middle aged butler, was smiling kindly at him through the rear view mirror. Thoughts were smashing through his brain like the thrum of a battle drum; he couldn't find it in himself to smile back.

Alfred continued chirping along the way as he always did. Usually, his long winded conversations about the mundane, and his nostalgia for Bruce's childhood, were often enough to keep his ward's mind from slipping into the too dark places that they often went, but today nothing could pull Bruce into the present and out of his head.

Since he'd gotten back to Gotham a week prior, Bruce had done his best to lay low and avoid the paparazzi. He hadn't even left the property of his manor, until now, partly because he had to sleep off his jet lag, but mostly because he was so tired of having his life on public display at all times. The slick black interior of the car they were using to head out of the city and over to Arkham, where the workshop he'd been invited to was being held, proved to be his own personal purgatory; there was no escaping himself.

This was the first time that Bruce was going to be taking an active part in his company. Sure, he'd attended fundraisers and other frivolous black tie events for Wayne Enterprises, but never once had someone asked him to actually do something that could affect change. He was Bruce Wayne, which stood for three things to Gothamites: Billionaire. Playboy. Douchebag. This rhetoric had been spread about him for so long, that even Bruce couldn't deny it himself. Nowhere in that list were the words, businessman, or serious adult.

When Lucius Fox had contacted him a few days before, asking if he wanted to attend and possibly speak at one of the Wayne Tech division's team building exercises, Bruce had tried to explain to Lucius that he didn't actually have any credentials which made him worthy of appearing and, much less, giving a talk to the employees — unless Fox wanted to count on nepotism. Lucius had poked a hole in his logic by telling Bruce that as the owner of the company, he was as high up as a higher up could be, and this fact alone made him worthy. Besides, Lucius had assured him that the team building exercises where literally that: exercises. Lucius had also assured him the workshop was super laid back, and the employees usually partook in a variety of team sports, rotating the groups throughout the day. This particular two-day event was all about introducing the new contractors to the tech division family.

The latter piece of information led him to his other problem. The real reason why his palms were sweating, and the monotonous blur of the tree-lined tarmac roads along his journey were making him so dizzy that his head hurt: Diana.

After his talk with Clark, he had truly meant to heed his best friend and stay out of Diana's way. But honestly, after everything, it felt like some unknown force was propelling him towards her. First, it was her getting hired into his company, and now this. After all this time of him longing for her and hoping to see her again, Bruce wasn't actually sure he was prepared.

When he arrived, he was immediately assaulted by a pack of journalists, waiting for him at the steps leading to the entrance of the brick building, growling their questions at him. Bruce painted on his easy smile and used the icy air and saturated rain clouds in the sky above them as an excuse to escape without a comment.

The workshop was being held at the building of what used to be a charter school back in the early 1900's. When the toxic leak happened at Ace chemicals in the 1920s, the students were relocated to another school within the city. Now, the facility was mostly used for enterprises holding events, much like today's team building exercises.

A hush fell over the room as Bruce crossed the threshold into the gymnasium. He waved awkwardly at the startled faces. It was clear Lucius hadn't told them he would be privy to the day's activities. He made his way over to the refreshment table, determined to lay low until the shock of his arrival had worn off.

He was haphazardly putting finger foods onto a sanitary plate, when he realized the hand next to his was Diana's. They both had reached for the same napkin and brushed hands. She jumped backed startled, a smile playing on her lips, until she looked up and saw it was him; he resented that smile, and he hated the way she swallowed it back in.

She walked off before Bruce could even apologize. He watched her retreating form, her braid gliding over her back with her movements, the tapered tip brushing against her tailbone. He had spent his entire forty minute drive in the car going over hypotheticals of how they would meet, and in less than forty seconds he had had his answer.

She was as cold as the winter air chilling his bones right then and there. Nothing like the fiery girl he knew back then.

xXxXx

 _Cadmus five-and-a-half years ago_

Fridays meant mufti day at Cadmus. It was the only day of the week when students could express their fashion sense without the restrictions of their school uniforms. The summer heat was still raging on well into September, so this particular mufti day also meant that the students — the female students — were very much inclined to dress in a manner that would cause them to be written up for dress code infractions before they could even step a foot out of the dormitories.

The boys only kicked back and enjoyed the show.

"She's so beautiful," Lois sighed, as if she was in a trance. She and Bruce were sitting on a picnic blanket under one of the oak trees not too far from the main school building. The princess was walking through the gardens, looking like some kind of forest nymph. She was wearing a white lace tunic; it's billowy shape and the daisy chain she wore on top of her long flowing curls brought to mind a carefree girlish innocence. But as she got closer and closer to them and Bruce's eyes focused better on her outfit, there was no more "little girl" anything about her. The lace of her tunic was see through, and this, plus the cut-outs at the shoulders and the clear outline of her white bra and tiny white denim short shorts clinging to her hips, gave a full view of every gentle sloping curve of her feminine form.

Bruce scoffed in response to Lois, as his eyes broke off of Diana, and he turned his attention back to the calculus homework he was trying to get done. Lois had asked Bruce to sit with her while she waited for Clark to get out of football practice, and that was how he found himself, stretched out on his stomach, with his upright torso being supported by his elbows and forearms, as he scrawled his chicken scratch into his notebook.

"What? You, of all people, don't think she's pretty?"

"She's beautiful alright, but at what cost? She seems pretty vapid to me."

Lois' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "That seems sexist."

"Why? I'm not saying all girls are vapid. I'm saying that _she_ is," Bruce said casually, not caring to look up from the notebook.

"You've been whining about her all week, you'd think she was responsible for the death of your dog, or something."

"No. Ace is very much alive actually. I spoke to Alfred this morning."

"I meant it as a joke."

"I know. I elected not to treat it as one," Bruce deadpanned. Lois stuck her tongue out at him, then turned her attention back to Diana. She had been trying to convince Bruce to let her invite Diana to sit with their group all week, but he kept shutting her down. Even though she, Clark, and Bruce had all agreed since the seventh grade that their group was to be run as a democracy, when Bruce took a polarizing stance to the other two members, it was often easier to humor him than to go against his wishes.

"Uh oh. Perv Lord's on the prowl," Lois said, looking on as Mister Lord the vice principal stepped very close to Diana and started talking to her. "He's so revolting. You'd think he'd know that she, out of all the girls that go here, is definitely out of his league." Bruce looked on out of the corner of his eye. If Lois was hoping he would go help the princess escape Mister Lord, she could keep dreaming; he tried it once already and she did not seem to like it.

But before he could mention it, Clark appeared and lumbered up to Diana, draped his arm around her shoulder, said something to the vice principal, and started leading her towards their tree. Mister Lord stood there for a while, burning holes into the back of Clark's skull with his eyes, before he eventually turned and headed back to the school building.

"Oh my God! They're coming over! Oh my God! What do I do? Does my hair look okay, Bruce?" Lois asked, frantically adjusting her bangs and short spiky ponytail.

"Just make sure Clark knows you're replacing him," Bruce said dryly, as his best friend and Diana neared them.

Clark and Diana waved at them as they approached.

"Diana, this is Lois Lane," Clark said. He gestured for her to sit down as he himself, folded his broad body behind Lois' petite form, and effortlessly pulled her onto his lap. Diana smiled, kneeled on the blanket and leaned in to kiss the air around Lois' cheeks twice, then Clark gestured to Bruce. "And this is Bruce Wayne."

"Oh I know, Bruce. He showed me around my first day." She sat back on her heels and winked at Bruce who tried (and somewhat failed) to pretend that he was still focusing on his math problems; ostensibly, his gaze was lingering on Diana. He couldn't look away from the way the golden skin of her cleavage was gently pressing against the lace tunic. He tried not to think about the hours of topless tanning she'd probably done to be so bronze in a place like that, but inevitably he did… and then he regretted it immensely. Laying in his current position, Bruce Jr. was being stifled between his body weight and the ground. Diana turned to Clark, a gentle wind blew her hair up and out and Bruce lost himself in her scent of lemongrass and the flickers of sunlight which bled through the ebony strands. Her voice drew Bruce back to their conversation. "What's the saying? Birds of a feather flock together? He was also stealing me away from Max — like you — that day."

"You and him are on a first name basis, now you two must be really getting close." Bruce didn't actually mean for it to sound as scathing as it did, but Diana took it in stride.

"Everywhere I turn, he's slinking around corners like an unfixed cat." The princess rolled her eyes theatrically and Lois and Clark erupted into laughter.

Bruce made it a point to sigh loudly. "Some of us are trying to do homework here," he grumbled, as he looked disdainfully at his best friends.

"What? All that money and you can't buy a sense of humour? Who does homework on a Friday, anyway?" Diana teased. With her accent and the husk in her voice, Bruce wondered if it was normal for her to make everything sound like an innuendo.

Normally, girls like Diana were exactly his type. His reputation around school and Gotham, when it came to pretty girls, was well documented. But something about the princess doured his mood.

"Contrary to popular belief, some of us don't just go to this school to waste time. Some of us actually want to succeed," Bruce deadpanned, though he made sure to use the opportunity to drag his eyes over her once more. Just because he didn't like her didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the display.

"Bro, you don't even go to class… like ever."

"Shut up, Clark," Bruce said as he threw his mechanical pencil at him, though he started chuckling in spite of himself.

"Are you guys going to the party at the lookout tonight?" Diana asked. The way she phrased the question suggested it was meant to be open to the three of them, but then she bit her lip and her blue eyes locked intensely on Bruce's grey ones. "Ollie's taking me, but, I don't really know any of the other kids going. I'm a Junior and they're all mostly twelfth graders."

"Bruce is going, aren't you, Bruce? That's his favorite spot around here. It's where he takes all of his girls," Clark said. Lois surreptitiously dug her elbow into his rib cage and motioned with a sideways glance at the way Bruce and Diana were looking at each other.

Bruce tried not to react too much to her company of choice for the party. Of course she'd be going with Oliver Queen. Ollie was the bane of Bruce's existence. He was like the happier, blonder version of Bruce. Tragic backstory. Check. A self serving manwhore with endless stacks of cash to burn. Check. Check. The thing is though, Oliver was this free, happy go lucky (albeit a bit slow) golden boy. If he had set his eyes on the princess, there was no way Bruce stood a chance.

"Yeah. I'm going with Vicki Vale, tonight," he said. Diana raised a brow and he smirked.

The princess turned away from Bruce and set her charms on Lois. "I'll trade you my crown if you lend me your hair elastic. I don't have one and it's really, really hot."

Lois' face lit up as if it was Christmas, she barely managed to squeak out, "Yeah, sure". Bruce never thought he'd see the day when someone could make Lois, of all people, shy.

Diana crawled on the blanket over to Lois, removed the daisy chain from her hair and fastened it to Lois' with a hairpin. Then, in one deliberate, sinuous movement she pulled the elastic band. Lois' long neck rolled backwards then snapped back up. Diana's hands worked gently on fluffing out Lois' spiky bob so it would fall as it should. Her voice was like a slow flowing honey, as she said, "There. It looks so much better on you than it ever could on me." She ran the backs of her fingers along Lois' cheeks a few times, then she pushed back on her knees and sat on her heels once more.

Lois let out an airy chuckle. Bruce wondered, not for the last time that afternoon, how he could free his boner without being too obvious. Clark swore under his breath, as he pulled Lois even tighter against him. Diana was oblivious.

"Lo, you know, I think I forgot my homework… uh… books… or something in my room. Wanna help me go find it?" Clark didn't even wait for Lois to respond, he lifted her up bridal style and made like a madman for the dormitories.

Diana pouted as she watched them leave, before she turned to look at Bruce with a question hidden in her furrowed brow.

"You'll have to get used to that if you keep hanging around them, Princess," Bruce said. Even he was surprised at how calm he sounded given his condition.

Diana was quiet and contemplative for a second as she tied up her hair. She then looked up at Bruce through her lashes and said, "And what if I keep hanging around you? What would I have to get used to then?"

"If you ditch Oliver tonight you'll find out." He stared at the princess intensely, willing her with his eyes to feel the fire she was starting in him.

Diana arched a brow, then she chuckled, low and throaty, as her eyes bounced back up to his.

"Okay."

xXxXx

 _Gotham City now..._

While Bruce was daydreaming about the past, Diana was making it a point to navigate the present, trying to stay as far away from him as possible. She had earnestly tried for a while to just talk to some of the other employees instead of just sticking to herself as she felt like doing. But that grew old pretty fast, because all of the conversations, no matter how much they meandered, always got back to Bruce. So, she spent the morning fluttering like a bee between the various friend groups scattered around the room.

If the gymnasium was a map, then Bruce always made sure the distance between his 'point A' and Diana's 'point B' was always within a close enough distance that their eyes crossed too much for her comfort. And despite the fact that she kept making sure to look away, she couldn't help being drawn to him just as she had when they were younger. It was like Aphrodite herself blessed him — finishing puberty had perfected him. Gone was the lanky, messy haired teen of old. Now, he was impeccably groomed and huge — wider and bigger built than she remembered him, but he still had the same sullen expression and sad little eyes.

It was his brooding that had fascinated her when they were younger, but, it had also become the reason why they couldn't be compatible. Like he did with everyone else in his life, Bruce had started projecting his pain and insecurities on to her, and she grown to resent him for it.

Despite the crowd all around her Diana could feel his eyes on her, daring her to look at him. It was suffocating. She knew she had to get out of the gym and fast. It took everything in her to walk, and not run, like she so desperately wanted, as she cleared the doorway. She quickly made her way down the powder-blue, locker lined hallway looking for the nearest bathroom, her steps echoing loudly in the empty corridors.

She felt him before she heard him.

"Diana."

Diana stopped in front of the door to the ladies room and her hand, which was meant to grab the doorknob, hovered in the air for a second before she dropped it. Her head tilted upwards slightly, but her dark lashes made it impossible for him to see her eyes. Some of the hair had come loose from her braid and the errant curls fell in rivulets around her face. She pushed them out of the way harshly. He wanted so much then to be able to do that for her like he used to, but he wouldn't do it as impetuous as she had. He would do it gently, tucking them behind her ear with care.

"Bruce."

She was so beautiful in that moment as she adjusted her body to fully face him, even her frosty gaze couldn't change that. The untamable curls framing her face, the long lashes that hid eyes so pale, he never knew whether they were blue or violet, her long toned legs accentuated by her gym leggings, all made Bruce smile shyly.

"Are you settling in nicely at Wayne Tech?"

"Am I settling in nicely? Is that really what you wanted to lead with?" She cocked a brow.

He thought about it for a second, then stuttered out an, "Uh — No." He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his fingers undoing his perfectly neat side part.

"Then say what you mean to say." Her voice was eerily calm considering the lasers her eyes were shooting at him.

"You haven't changed at all."

"You have." Her eyes raked up and down his body and she gestured to him with an open palm. He knew what she meant. He had focused a lot on his martial arts training when he was backpacking through Asia, and so, he was a lot bigger than when he left Gotham last year, let alone when he was seventeen. Diana continued, "But this is all just pointless, isn't it? I guess you think small talk is a good way to start a conversation. But it's meaningless. Small talk doesn't suit you, it never did. I think we can both agree on that." There was no bite or edge to her words. She sounded as though she was doing something as mundane as reading off of a laminated menu in a diner.

He swallowed. Diana's eyes tapered to focus on the rise and fall of his Adam's apple.

"We can."

"Good, well, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I can't wait to hear what you're going to say next." Her smile was all saccharine and the stuff of nightmares.

"You see, the thing is, Diana —"

"Really?" She feigned shock, then her face settled in to a sneer. "That's where you're going to go now? You're going to give me an explanation? I don't need to understand anything, Bruce. You're too late for me to care. Six years too late."

He was crumbling under her gaze. He stuck his right hand into his pocket and started fiddling with the small round gemstone he always had hidden there. Diana's eyes snapped down to the bulge his hand made in the pocket of his slacks. Her brows furrowed, before her gaze softened ever so slightly, but that was very short lived. In an instant the veil of anger shrouded her features and her expression hardened once more. _She remembers_ , he thought, a spark of hope kindling in his stomach. _She remembers the pearl and my pain._

"Why are you here, Bruce? You told me to stay out of your life. Do you remember?"

"Yes. I remember." He nodded, and his eyes softened. "If I said it was because I missed you, would you believe me?"

She looked at him in silence. Her gaze was cold. Bruce had never seen that look in her eyes before, and it unsettled him in every single part of his 6-foot, 4-inch, frame.

"I would, sure, if it's your truth," she finally said. "But that doesn't mean anything. I guess for you it's a case of absence makes the heart go fonder, right? Or maybe it's to have bragging rights with the guys?" Her head motioned to the gym. "Let everyone know I'm just another one of your sloppy seconds?"

He snorted, "You're no one's sloppy seconds."

"Oh, I know. I've looked in the mirror, recently."

Bruce smiled wryly. She was going to shut down everything he said, and he couldn't even blame her.

"You being at Wayne Tech makes me feel great, Diana. What I mean to say is… I'm happy to see you."

"Is that all? Fine then, let's just say I'm happy to see you too. Now that we've exchanged pleasantries, goodbye. I'd like to pee in peace, without an audience — you know, the usual way — it would be nice if you'd make yourself scarce." Diana made to turn towards the door, but Bruce stopped her.

"Princess." His hand reached out towards her and she recoiled, as if it was some highly corrosive acid. Her mask faltered. His voice saying _that_ word… it was like if he ripped the scab off of her healing heart and all her rancour came flowing out.

"Do not call me that!" She spat. "And don't touch me. If you try to touch me again, I _will_ break your wrist."

Bruce stepped backwards giving her a wide berth. He had been a black belt since he was twelve, but he still remembered all of the times Diana had landed him on his ass when they sparred together at Cadmus. He was stronger, but Diana's thinking was lethal. Her mind was the culmination of endless generations of martial indoctrination from a country with some of the most virulent defense systems to exist. She could break his arm, or any of his other appendages, with a blindfold on. An Amazon was not to be trifled with.

Diana took a deep breath and tossed her braid over her shoulder, seeming slightly calmer.

"What did you think was going to happen, Bruce? That I'd see you, and kiss you, and we'd laugh and smile and take a trip down memory lane? Maybe after our long, happy talk we'd sneak off, and I'd let you bend me over something and we'd have sex? Just like that, for the sake of the good old days? Is that what you thought?"

No. It wasn't what he thought — he wasn't sure what he was thinking exactly — though he could admit her proposition, would've been a better alternative.

"Our time together hurt me, Bruce, it's true. But I had a lot of time to grow up and get over it — that's what stopped me from walking over and kicking you in the balls every time I saw you looking at me today. But don't let my civility trick you."

"Diana…"

"Shut up! I gave you so much. Hera knows I gave everything I had in me, to you. And you…" She laughed bitterly. "You made a fool of me. You fucked me, and you abandoned me — left me naked and alone— you didn't even have the decency to cover me up. And when I returned to you, grovelling — a pathetic princess on her knees — you told me all you wanted all along was to sleep with me and now that you'd done it, I was of no use to you. You said I needed to leave you the fuck alone." His mouth opened. "If you say a single word, you will regret it!"

Bruce's brow furrowed. He wanted to defend himself, but she wouldn't let him talk. First of all, he didn't just fuck her, they had made love under the stars. Second of all, he had to leave her that night. God he had to. Didn't she know how suffocating it was for someone like him to be around someone like her all the time? For people like Diana, life was easy. She didn't know what it was like to be buried alive under anxiety. To carry the weight of the death and legacy of his parents, and the knowledge that he was too worthless to ever make them proud, on his shoulders. To be born and be a fuck up. She just woke up in the morning and everything fell into place. Her easy existence was painful to someone like him. He had to take her in small doses so he didn't ruin her like he had ruined everyone else. Didn't she know that sometimes you had to hurt the people you love just a little, so you didn't damage them until it was irreversible?

Diana once again pushed the unruly locks from her face. She approached him and looked at him from close up.

"It's sad we met now — today — and, at a restroom, of all places. Though, I'm sure you chose here for a reason." She tilted her head and gave him a condescending look. "We will not make fools of ourselves in front of everyone. We will keep our dignity. We will even pretend to be the best of friends, if we need to. But trust me Bruce, you mean less to me than a bug that I would crush under my boot. Okay? You should be happy too, because the fact that we can actually have a conversation now means I probably won't be trying any one of the many methods I had been planning to use to get back at you over the past six years. But don't you ever forget that I fucking hate you, and I will never forgive you. Ever."

She yanked open the door and stormed into the bathroom, the scent of lemongrass was embracing the air around him. Bruce inhaled deeply. He always found it strange no other woman's scent had affected him so greatly since Diana first came into his life. Lemongrass wasn't even a particularly noteworthy scent… but on her it was magical.

Bruce rested a flat palm on the door to the ladies room. So unused was he, to being the one to extend an arm to her. Diana was always the one who led them when they were younger, he knew now that if he wanted her back he'd have to take the reigns. He had changed a lot, and he had grown. Six years of hollow sex with faceless and nameless girls had taught him that he was ready to try and be a better man — if not for himself then at least for her. He just hoped that the damage wasn't too irreversible, and that she'd let him.

xXxXx

Diana left Bruce at just the right time; a dam of angry tears was threatening to burst from behind her eyelids. She leaned her back against the door of the bathroom as her breath caught like a shard of glass in her throat. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to swallow. Her heart was slamming against her sternum, and she flattened her palm against her chest, as if that would help it calm down. It didn't. Dry sobs left her body in heaving gasps, but she was determined not to shed a single tear for Bruce Wayne.

She made her way to the mirror, and she had to support herself with her hands on either side of the sink to stay upright. Her reflection was frightful. She could hear her mother telling her 'A princess must always look like everything is under control, even if it isn't.' _Well there you have it, Mother_ , she thought bitterly, _here's another way_ _I'm still failing you, even after all these years. I'm weak_.

When she dared to look at herself again, the dam broke and tears came streaming from her eyes.

"You idiot!" She seethed at her reflection, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Why are you still letting him get to you?"

The girl looking back at her in the mirror looked younger and more vulnerable than Diana had felt in years. She didn't have the answers Diana needed, she could only respond with her sobs.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed.**

 **Up Next: Bruce and Diana have to be professional after their argument.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful beta SaultNPeppah for taking the time to proof this for me.**

 **Thank you so much for all of the reviews on the last chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these amazing characters. I'm just obsessed with them.**

* * *

 ** _Five_**

* * *

 _Cadmus five-and-a-half years ago..._

Diana lightly dragged her fingers along the wooden barricade delineating the entrance of the lookout. The party, if you could call it that, had been raging on for at least two hours and Diana didn't know how much more of the overbearing thrum of the baseline pumping through the speakers, and stupid drunk teenagers, she could take. To bide her time, she was walking around the perimeter of the open field, trying her best to stick to herself.

She thought The Lookout was the most anticlimactic destination to exist. Given the name, she'd expected a place with a view. Instead, it was just a clearing in the woods near campus. Before she'd left Oliver, he had explained to her that back in the day, the school parties were held deeper in the forest on the riverbank, but because the police kept raiding the gatherings for underage drinking and drug possession, a few scapegoats used to stay at the lookout point and warn the others if police showed up. Later on, students had decided it just made more sense to hold parties here instead of down by the river.

Ever since she could remember, Hippolyta had recited tales of men and Man's World to her. In her bedtime stories, men were always represented as barbaric, loathsome, and uncouth. Her kingdom was founded as a direct rebuttal to these traits of theirs. For years Diana tried to convince her mother perhaps things had changed. She was convinced men had evolved, and so Themyscira should be more involved in global affairs. They had technology and wealth. They could do a lot of good in the world, or change things for the better. But her mother had always spurned her suggestions.

The sad part of it was, Diana had only been in Man's World for three weeks and she has already started to understand why her mother hated Man's World as much as she did. However, the princess took great care not to share this information with the queen. Hippolyta was patiently waiting to tell her daughter "I told you so" and pull her out of school at first notice.

Perhaps the most disappointing thing about Man's World was the fact that the women seemed to not grasp the notion of sisterhood very well at all. They claimed to be feminists, and to love and support each other, but the minute a guy showed up, they'd let him wedge a hole between them. Diana thought of this as both deplorable and disgusting, but it was getting more and more difficult for her to hold her tongue. However, her mother had sent her to Cadmus as an unofficial emissary, so she did her best to avoid arguments. In doing so, she had to evade the majority of female portion of the student body all together.

Then there was Ollie. When he had started talking to her at school, he was all cute smiles and innocent jokes. He had seemed nice and was exceptionally easy on the eyes, so Diana had entertained his flirtatious advances for a while. But the moment she'd said hello to him tonight at the party, his hand had started journeying lower and lower down her back— like a slimey snail, slow, but certain of its destination — until he was straight up groping her ass. Diana had promptly remedied the problem by introducing her elbow to his ribs. Needless to say, Oliver was not pleased to meet its acquaintance.

After this incident, it was pretty simple to find an excuse to ditch Oliver and try to find Bruce. Which was why she was currently walking the outskirts of The Lookout. She was hoping to find Bruce and ask him to leave with her. The Princess' disillusionment with men only grew worse from there.

When she spotted Bruce, his tongue was making its way down Vicki Vale's throat as he wound his hand into her fiery red hair. When they pulled apart for some air, Vicki had a look of utter rapture on her face as she nuzzled his neck with her nose. Right then, Bruce looked up and saw Diana standing there; at least he had the decency to look contrite, and to mouth the words "Sorry, I'll meet you in five minutes". However, when Vicki realized Bruce was talking to Diana, she stuck her perfectly manicured talons into his shoulder and tried to turn his attention back to her, pressing kisses along his chiseled jaw. Bruce resisted for a while, trying to reassure Diana with a look, but eventually he reluctantly gave in.

Diana hadn't needed to see anything more to know she was done with the party. She was happy she had insisted on coming on her bike and in so doing did not have to rely on Oliver or anyone else to get back to Cadmus. She quickly grabbed the handlebars and made her way deeper into the forest.

xXxXx

The air that night was crisp, and although the summer heat still reigned supreme during the day, the chilly nights suggested it's usurper, Autumn, would take the throne any day now.

Bruce walked slowly under the thick canopy of trees until he came to the glade where he hoped to find Diana. Her bike was leaning against an old willow. He was about to draw nearer to the shiny red dutch bike and inspect the contents of the basket attached to the rack, when a splash drew his eyes to his left.

A drowsy breeze rustled the leaves and stirred the water so it lapped languidly against the pebbled riverbank. Once he spotted her, Bruce couldn't tear his eyes away from the way she gracefully freestyled with her head above the water, in an effort to not get her hair wet. He stood there for a long time, toeing the gravelly sand with the tip of his shoes. He couldn't decide whether to undress and join her, call out to her, or leave; all — and yet none — of those things seemed to be the perfect option to him. As he would later come to learn was an uncanny habit of hers, Diana had decided for him.

"Oh. You've finally decided to show up." Diana, Princess of the Amazons, emerged from the river. In the dead of night the water seemed as black and as viscous as oil, as it sloshed around with her movements. He watched her in the pale moonlight, statuesque, long legged and enticing.

He was scandalized and aroused to see a delicate chain worn low on her hips. It scintillated in the darkness, the shock of its incandescence seemed to burn the golden flickers it made, into his retinas.

Diana walked past him without so much as a sideways glance, en route to the low hanging branch of the willow tree where she'd hung up her dress. Bruce inhaled sharply at the starkness of her nudity. Her long locks had been gathered up into a messy bun for her swim allowing her breasts to be on full display. His gaze quickly fell to his shoes; she didn't even try to hide her nakedness. Then again, why would she? Growing up on an island of only women, the princess had never learned shame.

Bruce slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and his eyes slammed shut as he fought the temptation to continue looking at her.

"I couldn't just ditch Vicki," he called out to her. His eyes were still closed but he could hear the crunching of the gravel under her footsteps.

Diana made quick work of drying off and slipped back into her short, off-the-shoulder, dress. She watched Bruce from her spot, partially hidden under the shadow of the cascading branches of the willow. She found his shyness endearing, but Diana wasn't ready to make nice yet; she felt slighted.

"I _just_ ditched Oliver." Her dry tone floated over on a gentle breeze, and it informed him just how fickle she thought his excuse was.

"That's different... he's a guy and... Vicki and I have history."

"Why did you ask me to be alone with you then? If you and her have history?" He jumped back a little, startled, and his eyes ripped open in shock. He hadn't heard her approach him, and yet there she was, not two inches away from him, once again chaste in her blue, frilly dress, and ostentatious silver bracelets. He should've known she was close from the odor of lemongrass dancing around him.

"I want to get to know you." She rolled her eyes and gave him the same bored expression she had given him the day they met. "Like I said, Vicki and I have history, but we're not together if that's what you're worried about."

He tried to get their gazes to lock, but Diana, it seemed, was suddenly captivated by the flow of the river. She wondered if the rules of coupling in America were really so different from those in Themyscira. On the island, an open display of affection like Bruce had just shared with Vicki was the very definition of being "together". Then again, Diana thought perhaps she could be the one who was overreacting — since she'd started attending Cadmus, everything was so different from what she knew; she no longer understood what was right or wrong, or if someone was exploiting her naïveté to make fun of her. Culture shock, something she previously used to dismiss as an excuse people gave for their bad manners, was now screwing her over.

Diana lifted her head proudly. Her cheekbones were high, her nose was haughty, and her scalding expression inspired Bruce to stand up straighter for some reason. "I'm not one of those girls who will tolerate being discarded when a prettier one comes along — I'm aware we just met and we're not a couple — but, you're the one who asked me out tonight, so don't be disrespectful. I deserve better and so does Vicki. Have some discretion."

Diana's voice was reinforced with the same steel his mother's had when he was a little boy and she had to set him straight. He almost started to tell her he doubted a prettier girl would ever come along, but he was on thin ice as it was. There was no need to make it seem as if he was pandering to her and, in so doing, put his foot so far into his mouth, it came out of his ass.

Even if it was the truth.

Instead he said, "I know you're not disposable, Princess. I was wrong to flaunt Vicki in front of you. But… just so we're clear, I don't date." Her eyes bolted back to his. "If we do anything, it's just for fun. I'm in no position to give anything more." He said the last sentence as if it were a condemnation. Almost as if the meaning of those words put the weight of the whole world onto his shoulders.

"All I need is honesty and discretion." She was quiet for a while and seemed to be searching for something in his eyes. When she found it, she said, "You have my permission to spend time with me."

His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. "You won't regret it, Princess. Let's find somewhere to hang out."

Diana led him to her bike where she had her supplies. Bruce hadn't known beforehand, but she was planning on spending the entire night away from Cadmus. She explained to him she had been elated to find the lookout was right next to a river. Her chambers in the palace back in Themyscira were right next to a stream, the sounds of its babbling flow helped her sleep at night. Homesickness had slowly started creeping its way into the far corners of her mind, and now, she was hoping to recreate the same atmosphere of her old bedroom.

"Aren't you a full time boarder? Won't you be in trouble if you don't get back before curfew?" Bruce only boarded on weekdays, and on weekends he returned to a country estate his family owned, not too far from campus. He was only familiar with the weekend rules because Clark was attending Cadmus on scholarship and his parents couldn't afford to put him up somewhere every weekend.

"Max won't let anyone punish me. He wants to impress me. That basically means I can do whatever I want." She said it with the kind of casual nonchalance that could only be wielded by a queen bee who was very used to having her pick of the drones.

"You should be careful with him. He's usually pretty harmless, but he's very bold with you." He had failed to keep the jealousy out of his voice, and it bothered him, because if there was one fact about Bruce Wayne, it was that he did not get jealous over girls. He was determined not to start doing it now.

"Trust me, Bruce. I will end him the minute his grubby fingers go somewhere they're not welcome."

He wanted to ask her if she meant it in a 'I'll tell and have him fired from the school' kind of way and not her literally ending him, but he was afraid of sounding like an idiot in front of her. Bruce had spent way more time, than he would ever dare to admit, researching the Amazons after he and Diana had first met. There were very few reliable resources about the country, but every single article he read reiterated the same: all residents on the island were obligated by law to do some extent of martial training from the time they could walk. The princess might have seemed soft and unassuming, but he knew there was more to her than she let on.

He wondered if she would ever spar with him. He was a member of both the Karate and Krav Maga clubs in school, but as far as he knew she hadn't joined… maybe he could try to convince her to. Bruce always thought the person someone became when they were fighting was them showing you who they really were. Whe. the layers of good manners and social conditioning were pulled back, and it all came down to instinct and fight or flight, you could tell if someone was a pacifist, aggressor or killer just from the way they tried to take you down. Bruce always thought himself to be a pacifist: he took his opponent down quick, clean and with minimal injury. Diana was probably the kind of girl to leave you in the infirmary for a month; in all honesty, if that was his fate after sparring with her, he wouldn't even mind.

It was so unusual to him to be wondering things about girls instead of asking them, or being assertive and taking — within reasonable judgement — what he wanted. With Diana he was afraid to say something and ruin it before it even started. He had never met a girl who told him off before. Or a girl, excluding Lois, who seemed genuinely unimpressed and unaffected by him. Take Vicki for example, she was one of the prettiest girls in school, she could pick any of the good guys like Hal Jordan or Barry Allen, instead she settled for an off and on relationship with Bruce. She let him do whatever he wanted with her whenever he wanted to, all because she liked the idea of them eventually being together one day.

Bruce could already tell Diana wouldn't put up with his shit for even five minutes and yet… he'd been stringing Vicki along since they were fourteen.

He had been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't realized the princess had spread a thick, patterned blanket on the bed of fallen leaves beneath the willow. Bruce sighed as he and Diana settled onto her blanket, him with his back against the wide tree trunk with his long legs outstretched, her, a reasonable distance away from him, but not enough for Bruce to think she didn't like him. Her legs were pulled up in front of her and her arms were folded on her knees as she rested her chin on them.

Bruce delighted in the exposed skin on her arms, legs, and shoulders. He wanted so much in that moment to trace his fingers along the peach fuzz on her firm biceps. He wondered if he asked her nicely, if she'd let him see her waist chain again. He did neither, surprising himself by reaching forward and removing the alligator clip holding her hair. He never wanted to forget the lassitude with which her hair unfurled and splayed itself over her shoulders all the way down to her hips, the wave of lemongrass that hit him… it made him want to bury his face in her hair and keep it there for the rest of the night.

"Bruce?" He loved the way her tongue lingered against her teeth in a soft lilting roll of the 'r' in his name. He wanted to make her say his name while he did dirty things to her right there and then, on her blanket under the stars, but instead he let his eyes meet hers, as she looked back at him over her shoulder.

"You have really beautiful hair, Diana." She actually blushed, then the smile that followed was small and timid. Bruce knew he had to make it his night's mission to coax an even bigger one out of her.

"I have something. I don't do this often at all but, my buddy Tommy gave it to me as a party favor." He pulled a joint out of his pocket. Diana just looked at him strangely. "It's weed. It gets you high and relaxes you."

"I'm relaxed," she insisted.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I'll smoke it some other time by myself."

Diana blushed again. She was quiet for a moment and wrung her hands nervously. Bruce had never thought it was possible for someone like her to seem unsure of herself. "I will try it, but I don't know how." Her blue eyes searched for his grey ones once more in the darkness. Her voice was almost a whisper. "Will you teach me?"

He smirked and beckoned her closer with a crook of his finger. He had expected her to take his side against the tree trunk. Instead, she curled her body into the space between his legs, the side of her shoulder and arm tucked against his chest. He wrapped his left arm around her and pulled her even closer then he flinched; her skin was freezing.

"Are you cold?"

She hummed her response.

He draped his jacket over her shoulders.

"And now?"

"Now I'm better." Diana tried not to sniff his masculine scent which was trapped in the fibers of the jacket too obviously. She traced the lettering on his graphic tee with her index. The the sensation of her finger ghosting over his chest and stomach, made itself felt as a shiver in the base of his spine. "What's a 'pull out king'?" She asked reading the words off of his shirt. "What are you pulling out of?"

"It's naughty, but if you think hard enough you can figure it out." He looked down at her and gently swiped some of the hair out her face. Her brows furrowed until the realization dawned.

"Does it feel better that way?"

"No. It's just a dirty joke. Don't worry about it, okay?" She nodded into the crook of his neck.

He gave her a light squeeze. The princess had seemed so worldly and sure of herself before. Now that she was asking Bruce to explain smutty innuendos to her, it worried him. He had a strict policy against getting involved with inexperienced girls, as they tended to cling.

The last thing he ever wanted was a clinger. They had expectations, and demands. These things always pissed him off… right?

 _Right?_

He swallowed back a groan as she adjusted her body ever so slightly in his arms. It felt so good to hold her, she was so soft and pliable — maybe he could make an exception if she was the clingy type.

Bruce shook his head as if to wipe it clean of the offending thought, then he dug into his pocket for his lighter and lit the blunt. Diana watched the end of the joint burn red hot as he inhaled. After he puffed a few times he turned to her.

"Okay, so." Bruce eased the joint between her lips and held it in place between his middle and forefinger. Her soft lips were glistening and so plump and red and suddenly, the blunt seemed like a sad substitute for what he really would have liked to be rubbing between them. He stifled yet another groan and hoped she couldn't feel him getting hard. "When you pull in, do it nice and slow and hold it in your mouth for a bit before you let it into your lungs. That way it doesn't burn too much."

She never broke eye contact with him as she followed his instructions. She was so trusting of him it made him sick. Didn't she know he was exactly the kind of boy her mother probably warned her about?

Diana's body stiffened as she let out two small coughs.

"I'm not good at it," she gasped in a hoarse voice. Diana looked up at Bruce as though she was worried about letting him down. It made him ache she would even dare to think she could do such a thing. Letting people down was his job, he just wanted her to have fun.

He squeezed her again to reassure her. "No way. You barely had to clear your throat. The first time I smoked I had a choking fit so hard I nearly died."

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Why do you do it then?"

He was quiet for a long time as he contemplated his thoughts. His voice was grave but utterly sincere when he said, "I guess I need it sometimes because the way I see it is, if you can't be dead… maybe it's better to be numb."

"You're way too morose for someone who has everything," she chided.

"I don't have everything," Bruce said. His jaw clenched and he got a faraway look in his eyes.

"Your parents." She nodded against his chest toying once again with his t-shirt. "Ollie told me what happened to them. I'm so sorry."

He bristled at the mention of Queen. "What else did our good boy Oliver tell you?" He spat his name out, then he ground his teeth together to stop himself from saying anything else. It was irrational, he knew, but he didn't like the reminders she'd been spending time alone with Ollie doing God knows what.

"Lots of things. None of them are worth repeating here, though." She grasped the soft, black cotton of his shirt in her fist as she turned to look up at him. Bruce turned away, a scowl darkening his features considerably. Diana was searching for him in the darkness, willing him to meet her gaze halfway but he was too stubborn. He was in one of his ever changing moods again. Diana tightened her lips, determined to wait him out. She grabbed his wrist and moved his arm so the blunt was at her mouth again. He finally sighed and looked at the way her lips pursed around the filter to suck the smoke in.

Bruce wanted so much to kiss her then… feel her soft lips against his. Instead, he settled for having his mouth touch where hers was just moments ago as she passed the joint to him.

"You know it's my fault my parents died?" he said after a while into the still silence of the night.

She turned to look up at him again, her eyes widened in shock, and he nodded. He didn't know why he did it, but he started telling her about the fights his parents had been having, in the days leading to their death. Thomas and Martha Wayne were disgustingly in love with each other and they only ever fought for one reason… their son Bruce.

Thomas had been growing frustrated with his son. Young Bruce was a very anxious and fearful child. His father wanted to nip it in the bud as soon as possible. Bruce was a Wayne; that name was meant to strike respect into the hearts of people. His father thought if he kept catering to Bruce's fears and whims, the boy would never grow up to deserve their surname. The title 'Wayne' had to be earned. So, his father was hard… too hard on him. Martha was always the one who rescued Bruce from his father's strictness, their son was only eight years old after all, the foundations of the Wayne Empire wouldn't come crumbling down if Thomas just allowed Bruce to be a child while it was still his time to be one.

The only reason they'd gone to the play that evening was because Bruce had been begging for weeks and his mother, ever the voice of reason, had told Thomas he needed to make it up to Bruce for being so stern with him all the time.

The only reason they'd decided to walk down the alleyway, instead of down the main street was because Bruce had begged his parents to take a detour since he was reluctant to go back to the manor too soon.

Hell... if you really wanted to get to the bottom of it all, the only reason his mother was even wearing the pearls that got them mugged was because she had asked Bruce to help her pick out her jewelry that evening when she was getting dressed. He'd chosen them, knowing how much his father liked seeing them on her.

Bruce might as well have pulled the trigger himself.

Every night when he tried to sleep he could see his father's lifeless, emerald eyes, as he lay on the wet cobblestone bleeding out. They were cold as they stared at Bruce in silent judgment of what he'd done. Bruce knew there was nothing he could ever do to atone for his sins. He was a failure. It should've been his body the coroner had to remove from the alley not theirs. His parents were larger than life, well loved by all and… he had killed them.

He was out of breath when he finished telling Diana his story. He looked down at her and was shocked to see she had tears that were threatening to fall. She cupped his cheek with her left hand and gently ran her thumb back and forth over it. Bruce knew if he kept looking at her he'd completely break down, and that would be pathetic.

He was a wrecking ball, there was no use spilling tears over everything he'd destroyed.

"Hey." Her voice was soft and husky. She pushed herself away from him so she sat up, her hand never ceasing its calming motion over his cheek. "Cry if you must, Bruce. I won't judge you. They're only tears, let them fall."

The tenderness in her eyes was what got to him the most, it reached into him and yanked the pain up and out of his soul. Diana kneeled before him and held him to her chest, almost like a child. He knew he was soaking her in his tears but everytime he tried to stop them, more and more kept flowing.

Bruce didn't know how much time passed, but Diana was there and she was just content to hold him, run her fingers through his hair and not say a word. He'd never been so grateful for a person's silence in his entire life. After a while, she started fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable from standing on her knees for so long. Bruce couldn't help smiling (even if it was a pitiful, snotty, sad smile) at the irony of the situation… a princess of all people was kneeling before him. He grabbed the smooth firm skin at the back of her thighs and in one swift motion pulled her so she was straddling his lap. The unexpected gesture made her squeal. He hadn't known Diana was capable of such a sound, he made a mental note to discover all the girlish noises she could make.

The both of them were silent for a long while, listening to the screech of the cicadas and the rustling of the trees.

Diana eventually broke the silence and said, "I don't think you see things clearly, Bruce. You're too hard on yourself. That vile man is the one who deserves to suffer and hold the guilt for what happened to your parents. I'm so sorry you think it's your burden to carry."

That was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. He wanted to tell her, but he knew that if he spoke, the emotions he'd been burying for so long would come bubbling to the surface once again. No one deserved to bare witness to that twice in one night, least of all Diana.

Silence fell between them once again, but this time it made the atmosphere seem pregnant and charged with emotion, like if even the air was trying to digest what had just transpired between them.

"I thought you said this crap was supposed to make you numb?" She eventually blurted as she nodded her head in the direction of the discarded blunt.

Bruce cackled in spite of himself. "It does… But I'm a fucking basket case so…" he trailed off, distracted by the expanse of exposed skin on her elegant neck. She was so close to him… so soft and inviting that it drove him crazy. He tucked her hair behind her ear and touched it with his mouth, so gently that it tickled her and made her shudder in his arms. The movement forced the jacket to slip off her shoulders. His eyes feasted as they reacquainted themselves with the sharp protrusions of her collar bones which dipped between her rounded shoulders.

He started off with chaste kisses at first, small unexpected pecks on the sensitive skin of her collarbones and neck. His fingers wound into the soft hair at the place where the back of her head met her jaw. He cradled her skull in his palm and tilted it back to make more room for his mouth.

Diana swore under her breath as he attacked her neck with a new passion leaving a scorching trail everywhere his lips touched. His tongue darted out to taste her cool skin and it electrified him. He drew her flesh into his mouth sucking hard and the skin there bloomed bright red under his ministrations. Diana moaned and started grinding onto his lap. He pulled her hair harder to grant him better access. It stung so good, and her breathing starting coming out in ragged gasps. His free hand started running over her chest. She wasn't wearing a bra and his touch made her aching nipples contract against the thin cloth of her dress. He teased one with his fingers then pinched it causing Diana to cry out loud. Then his hand moved on teasing and tracing anywhere it could find purchase— trying any and everything to elicit more of those sexy sounds she made. His mouth was ever moving. He was talking to her, murmuring words of affection in between kisses.

Diana's hands trailed their own path over his body caressing the skin under his t-shirt. She splayed her hands over the rock hard flesh of his stomach and pushed; it didn't even give. A prick of her fingernail right above the waist of his pants ran a shiver down down his back.

His lips continued their climb, leaving a hot, wet trail of kisses from her neck to her cheek.

But then, when his mouth sought hers… Diana sighed and reluctantly turned away, stopping him.

Her rejection caused his blood to cool instantly. When he pulled back to look at her she was panting and looked conflicted.

"You were kissing Victoria before, Bruce. If I wanted to taste her, I'd have sampled her directly myself. It's strange to have a middle man." Bruce exhaled loudly and his hand fell from her hair then both of them took purchase on her hips. He understood what she was saying, but it was still a rejection and it hurt. He tried not to sulk too hard though, especially since he now couldn't get the image of Diana kissing Vicki out of his head.

"Will you stay here with me until dawn?" Her head fell onto his shoulder. Her hands were stroking the corded muscles on his back, under his shirt. It seemed so natural to him like if it was something they'd been doing forever.

"Of course, Princess." Bruce rolled his eyes at her question. Did she really think he would leave her in the middle of the woods by herself at night?

"Have I hurt you?"

"Just a little."

"Please know… I don't want you to feel…"

"Shhh… You already explained yourself. It's alright." He held her tight against him. It was true that rejection was something new to him, but if anything it made him determined to stay with her even more.

There was more silence, then her breathy whisper.

"Bruce?"

"Hmm."

"There's other places I can kiss you that she hasn't tonight."

Diana wove her fingers through his hair and tugged his head back exposing his neck. She could still feel the aftermath of his kisses on her own neck; the least she do was return the favour. She watched the way his Adam's apple bulged even more in this position and she latched onto it, sinking her teeth into him then soothed the pain with the wet, warm caresses of her tongue. She sucked and kissed his neck. Her lips were hungry and her tongue kindled a desire in him that he had never felt before. His hands squeezed her hips. Hard. And he found himself grinding up against the thin barrier of her underwear.

Diana's kiss marked him indelibly. He knew before her lips even dared to release his neck, that this kiss right here would become the standard he'd be obligated to hold every other kiss with any other girl to. Her lemongrass would never leave him and would forever rouse his baser senses and linger in his mind. The princess branded him and he knew no matter what, his mind, body and soul would always be drawn to her.

Always.

And he hadn't even shared her mouth yet…

xXxXx

 _Gotham City now..._

The rest of the day went by in a gloomy blur. Bruce only spoke when spoken to. His delivery of the motivational speech he'd prepared was half assed at best. He became uncommunicative and surly. There was no doubt in his mind that his attitude left a bad taste in his employees' mouths.

He could already see the headlines in the Gotham Gazette 'Billionaire Bruce Wayne Thinks Work Is Beneath Him' but he couldn't help it. He couldn't care less if anyone snitched to the tabloids and he got his name drug through the mud again. It had been happening all of his life if something came up now it wouldn't be any different. There was only one thing going through his mind right then… Diana hadn't come out of the bathroom since their talk.

He was worried about her, he wished he could go to her but it was impossible; Diana would probably murder him if he so much as looked in her general direction again. He would have spent the entire day keeping vigil at the door to the ladies room if he could, but that seemed like a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen. Bruce was a well known womaniser but he had no intention of going on the record as a pervert. Instead, he stayed near enough to the entryway of the gymnasium hoping he could overhear someone coming back from the bathroom and that they'd have even the tiniest bit of information about her. At this point he'd even settle for someone whispering her name.

He was pacing back and forth between the wide posts of the swinging doors at the entrance to the gymnasium when he heard it.

Oswald Cobblepot, an intern with the programming department and Hugo Strange, personal assistant to Lucius Fox, having a little chit-chat at the watercooler just outside of the doorway. Hugo had a deep booming voice, in fact Bruce was certain it was carrying all the way down the hallway.

"I'm telling you man, she's fucked up. I told her she looked nice and she just stood there staring at me. I thought she didn't hear me so I said it again and she started sobbing. Like real ugly crying too."

"Shit man! I thought she was into you. She was practically throwing herself at you after yoga yesterday."

"If that's what she's like with someone she likes, I'd hate to see her when she's being nice to a guy she feels sorry for."

Oswald's laugh came out as a squeal. It was oddly fitting for the pig he actually was.

"Doesn't matter though, she's got great tits and an amazing ass. If you won't be tapping that I won't mind trying to ask her out."

"Be my guest. She's hot, it's true. But that Diana Prince has problems dude, girls like that are always frigid in bed."

 _That. Was. Enough._

Bruce stormed into the hallway like a raging bull.

Hugo and Oswald, who were both much smaller than Bruce's massive 6-foot 4, shuddered slightly, clutching their conical paper cups a little too tightly. The water drooled from their cups onto the front of their gym pants in what looked like two wet patches of urine.

"You!" Bruce hissed and pointed in Hugo's direction. "You need to shut the hell up."

Bruce turned his attention to Oswald, who looked quite remarkably like a deer caught in the headlights. "And you. You need to behave yourself or I'll cancel your internship and throw you out on your ass. Then I'll write a letter to your school and share it on Twitter explaining how you managed to get fired from a job that doesn't even pay you."

After giving one last menacing look at Oswald, Bruce walked toward Hugo and towered over him, bending to bring their eyes close together. "What you're doing is grounds for sexual harassment. You mention her name in conversation again and I'm filing a complaint with HR on her behalf. Do you understand?"

Hugo blinked dumbly.

Bruce leaned closer to Hugo till their noses were almost touching. "Maybe you didn't hear me. If you talk about Miss Prince like that again, I will personally make sure there's a sexual harassment complaint filed against you. Capiche?"

Hugo nodded stiffly.

"Good. Now get the hell out of the hallway, you assholes, and wait for me in the gym. You people have too much free time around here. I'll give you something to do."

Bruce glared at the two men until they scuttled into the gym like the terrified rats they were.

He was fuming and cursing under his breath, he turned to go back into the gym, but he caught something moving in the corner of his eye. Diana, was standing there not even ten feet from him just down the hall.

"Diana… " He forced a smile, hoping she hadn't heard anything that had just transpired, he approached her tentatively, he scared she'd run away.

"Are you happy, Bruce? You've ruined me to the point where I can't even accept it when a guy pays me a compliment." Her voice was so raspy and raw.

It broke him.

"Diana…" He started again, though he couldn't think of anything to say. If after that whole exchange she still saw him as the bad guy… maybe it was who he really was.

A single tear was streaking down her cheek. Her chin wobbled as their eyes met. Diana looked as if she was waiting for Bruce to say something, but he didn't know what. She swallowed so hard he heard it, then she exhaled, dried her face with the back of her knuckles, adjusted her hoodie and walked off towards the gym.

Her determined footsteps made the saddest sound he'd ever heard.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! The flashback ended up being waaaaaaaay longer than I'd planned** , **hopefully y'all didn't mind.**

 **Up Next: Present day Bruce and Diana, try to keep their distance at the workshop.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful beta SaultnPeppah for making sure that this was in a read worthy condition for you all.**

 **Thanks so much for all of the reviews on the last chapter and for all the follows and favorites, they really do keep a gal motivated :)**

 **Disclaimer: You know how this goes by now, if you recognize the names, then the characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out to play.**

Mitéra- Mother

* * *

 _ **Six**_

* * *

 _Gotham City now..._

"Okay, listen up!" Bruce barked abruptly, standing at the centre of the court facing the bleachers. Inspired by what occured at the water cooler, he had become determined to take control of the day's events. "Today is going to be run a little differently than before. It has come to my attention that none of you seem to know who's in charge and what you're actually supposed to be doing here." He cast a death stare at James, the prematurely balding man, who held the title of Team Manager and, who was also supposed to be the one making sure the employees actually did some sort 'team building' that Friday. James' head dropped as he flushed in embarrassment.

"We'll rotate through six different sports today. Three this morning and three after lunch. There's twenty four of us — including myself — so we'll cycle through teams of six for a total of two quick games per sport, with a final match based on who wins most of their matches. The winning team gets rewarded a weeks worth of overtime. Three hours of paid overtime during five days per player, without having to work any extra hours. I'll foot the bill myself. Are there any questions?"

"Are you going to pay yourself overtime if you're on the winning team. You're not even on payroll."

Bruce's voice was dry as he said, "Really? You're concerned about _my_ finances."

Another voice called out, "If were playing team sports and we're all accounted for, who's going to referee in case things get ugly?"

"There are four teams of six" Bruce repeated, slowly and exaggerated. "At any given time, half of you will just be sitting and watching. We can collectively referee. And remember, the aim is to have some friendly competition and build relationships so we can leave this workshop closer to each other. Keep it clean and practise good sportsmanship. I'm going to randomly group the names into teams on my phone. Give me a second."

Bruce took a good ten minutes setting up the team lists, then he read out the names of the first team and, surprise surprise, Diana was on his. Diana was like a doe looking into the barrel of a hunter's gun when he called her name, but he ignored her, proceeding to list off the rest of their teammates: Ivy, Mike, Joe, and Hugo. The last name made her gag a little.

The air was heavy with the palpable excitement of everyone but Diana. She wasn't on their payroll, so she really didn't see the appeal of the prize purse Bruce was dangling over their heads. Besides, she would rather die than accept a cent of his money.

Diana walked over to her team and Ivy, the in office counselor, waved merrily at her. Within ten minutes the first match began.

xXxXx

They had all gathered back into their respective teams after lunch. Bruce had scheduled soccer, volleyball, and basketball to occupy them for the afternoon.

He'd decided he'd had enough of Diana sulking and not participating for the day. Besides, he didn't want anyone else to think she was getting preferential treatment, so he called out to her to let her know she was expected to play. She seemed aggravated as she turned to face him and he felt bad about how her eyes were still red around the edges, but he didn't want to pick favorites. Besides, the endorphins would do her good.

"I picked you for your hustle, Prince," he shouted, when she'd made no attempt to move. Diana slowly pushed herself off of the bleacher she was seated on and strolled towards Bruce. "Faster… like you mean it." She shot him a dirty look but he ignored it, instead focusing on the business at hand.

Some of the guys were peeling off the tape which had remained from marking off dimensions for a dodgeball court earlier. Bruce called his team and their opponents close so they could shake hands and decide on which side of the court they wanted to defend.

Disaster didn't take long to strike.

Bruce had to admit his team did have an unfair advantage as they were all fit, and well… the other team just wasn't as athletically inclined. They were playing against a team of some of the older members of the tech division, and even though their youngest member was nineteen, Cobblepot had a very mild case of Cerebral Palsy; his legs were particularly stiff which made him waddle about like a penguin at times. Their opponents were between a rock and a hard place when it came to choosing which position to let Oswald play. It was out of the question he be expected to run around and kick a ball at the same time, so they'd decided to let him be their goalkeeper. However, given his team was currently down five-nil, he wasn't much use in this position either.

It happened in an almost poetic sequence of events. Diana dodged Mendes in a fake out and dribbled the ball past Kendra, who was the last line of defense between the opposing team's goal post and their goalie, Cobblepot. When she got into the goal box, Cobblepot was out for his redemption. He dove onto the floor, aiming to grab the ball in his hands and stop Diana before she had a chance to shoot it into the goal, but that was not what had happened. It had all happened so fast. It was only when Cobblepot yanked his hands back, prize in hand, had he realized it was Diana's foot and not the ball he had pulled up with such vigour.

Gravity tugged Diana to the ground with the same vicious furore as a farmer pulling a weed. Before Bruce could even register what was happening her skull collided with the laminated floor with a loud crunch and her world blurred into a cold, dark shroud.

xXxXx

"Diana. Diana. Princess!"

 _Yes? Yes? Princess? Shut up!_

"Come on, please open your eyes." His voice seemed far away and desperate.

Why did it feel like a thoroughbred had galloped all over the back of her head?

"Diana?"

"Hera… stop shouting." Her voice was raw and huskier than usual, so her words came out barely a whisper. She pried her eyelids apart with significant effort. Bruce, and the entire tech division, appeared at her nose, barely outlines being drowned out by intense light. Bruce situated her head better onto his lap with all the rugged protectiveness of a papa bear. The creases in his t-shirt folded over her face before her world went black again.

"Can you guys step back a bit. Give her some air?" His breath wooshed over her ear. "Are you okay, Diana? How many fingers am I holding up?"

She tried to shrug but it was all useless and limp. "Dunno, I can't see."

There was a chorus of gasps. Bruce whispered about ten different curses. "It's alright, you'll be fine. Probably just rattled your optic nerve a bit with your fall. Don't worry though. I'll have the best ophthalmologist and neurologist in the city look after you. You'll be fine. You'll see." He seemed to be reassuring himself more than Diana. He started rocking her back and forth like a lunatic; she felt seasick.

"No, I'm not blind. Your shirt is blocking my eyes." He pulled away, smiling his relief. The fluorescent lights blinded her for a moment, and she blinked in rapid succession. When her eyes adjusted, her brow wrinkled. "How did I get up here on the bleachers?"

"She seems coherent. She's good then?" Diana could make out Oswald's weasley voice from somewhere out of sight.

"I'm just fine." She tucked her face back into Bruce's tee-shirt, seeking the warmth and protection it had provided from the blaring white lights. Her nose flattened against the hard wall of his abs and she felt the heat spread across her cheeks as she wondered if _everyone_ had seen her accident.

"You really should be more careful. I'm not blaming your disability, but seriously, how do you grab her foot instead of a ball?"

"I'm sorry." Oswald's tone seemed sincere.

"I'm going to call an ambulance to take us to the hospital. I think she might have a concussion." Bruce started rolling her to access his pocket.

"I'll call," said a female voice. _Ivy's_ Diana thought.

"Thanks. Mendes is the most senior person here, right? I want you to take charge and make sure all the activities continue as planned. I will be calling on Monday to check up on how things went. And to collect names for the prize. I won't forget"

"Yes, Mister Wayne."

"No hospital," Diana muttered. She tried to sound firm, as the idea of being in an emergency room seemed to make her nausea rise even more. She had spent enough hours of her life in hospital with Jason and his seizures, if she never saw another emergency room again it would still be too soon.

Diana tried to sit up but Bruce's large hand spread across her taut stomach pinning her to his lap and the wooden bleacher. It was such a languid yet assertive motion. The thick fabric of her black hoodie which separated their skin started to burn under his touch… or maybe it was her stomach.

"I don't need to go to the hospital. Honestly, I'm fine, I —"

She threw up her lunch on his Nike sweatpants.

xXxXx

The nearest medical facility to the workshop turned out to be more of a health centre than an actual hospital. The building was a quaint little bungalow, and when they had arrived Bruce had to ask their EMT at least four times if she had been certain this was where they were meant to be. Since Arkham was mostly a ghost town these days, the larger hospital had been abandoned and this clinic was what was left. Even the nurses were so unused to having emergencies brought into them, they actually had to go set up a bed for Diana.

When the nurses had finished, Bruce had led them into the examination room where Diana was now huddled against the wall next to the bed she was sitting on. Bruce had draped his camel coat over her to keep her warm. Delirious or not, she had made sure to spurn him when he had tried to sit next to her, under the guise of keeping her warm with his body heat. She remembered what his body heat felt like well enough to know it would do little to help relieve her vertigo.

Bruce was pacing back and forth between two walls of the confined room and it was only then had Diana noticed he had changed from his workout clothes back into his pedantically starched shirt and dress pants, and wondered when the hell he'd done it. She was glad he did though; vomit was not a fashion statement.

As she sat there pondering whether she'd passed out twice, Bruce was trying his darndest to avoid the dark haired receptionist who had clearly recognized him and was obnoxiously trying to get his attention by standing in the doorway of the examination room.

"Maybe when you're finished here we can get a drink out back? There's a pub not too far from here." Her tone had just enough suggestion in it to set Bruce's teeth on edge. He wondered if women like her knew come-ons like this sounded more desperate than sexy. Besides, it was so inappropriate for her to be standing there distracting him, whilst Diana obviously needed his care and attention.

The sterile smell of the room invaded Diana's nostrils and made her body spasm in repeated dry heaves. She could only imagine what a sorry sight she must have been, puking air while Bruce had to take the trouble to stop flirting with the receptionist and rush over to her side and hold her. Diana didn't even have the energy to try to control the convulsions. Besides, she'd already thrown up on him, what use was it to try and impress him now?

"I think your new girlfriend needs you more than I do," she said breathlessly as she recovered. It was a low thing to say, she knew, but she couldn't find it in her to regret the stab, especially not when the receptionist practically started making heart eyes at Bruce after Diana said the g-word.

"What?"

"I've seen the news and I know you. You entertain a lot of pretty birds. I don't mean to keep you from it." She gave a sideways glance to the petite brunette standing in the doorway.

He didn't respond. Instead he scowled as he walked over and shut the door on the hopeful receptionist. By the time he was back at the bed, Diana's teeth started rattling again. Bruce tucked the coat around her even tighter, wedging the edges between her back and the wall.

He frowned. "I don't like how cold you are." He tried once more to sit next to her, and when she didn't refuse, he pulled her even closer.

Diana wiggled herself into his side, realizing her headache was less intense when she was pressed against him. "You're like a radiator. How did you get so hot?"

"Genetics?"

Bruce looked down at Diana and flashed her a dazzling smile that caught fire in the base of her stomach. She wondered if he could see what kind of effect he was having on her — he probably didn't. She'd have known if he did; modesty had never been his forte. She was willing her eyes to look away from his frazzled perfection, but there seem to be some kind of burnt out circuit in her brain as every time she tried to avert them, nothing happened. She pondered, not for the first time since she'd been placed on the stretcher back at the school, exactly how hard she must've hit her head.

Under usual circumstances, Bruce would never complain that Diana was letting him hold her, but he felt conflicted. She hated him, she said so herself. But now she was snuggled so very close to him… but he couldn't let himself enjoy it because she was sick and running on pure instinct, not choice.

"I hope the doctor gets here soon. You're worrying me." His voice was a slow, deep rumble, spoken into her hair. She shuddered, and unbeknownst to Bruce it had nothing to do with her chills.

"When you talk to me like that, I die a little inside."

Diana remembered how much she loved listening to his voice in the quiet moments shared just between the two of them — much like this very moment in the examination room. The way his mouth curved around his words, soft and careful — always so careful — and peaceful. His words used to reverberate through his chest straight into her own as she'd lay on top of him, held tightly against his body by his strong arms. It made her feel like they were one... the way his words would vibrate through her body made her feel like she could be saying them herself. They'd spend hours like that — never a silent moment between them, yet somehow saying nothing at all. It was her favorite way to fall asleep.

Her mother had once told her, during a phone call in one of the 'off' times during her off and on relationship with Bruce, that it was impossible for them both to be truly happy at the same time. She was a dreamer. He was a cynic. They were doomed to fail before they had even began.

During her time at Cadmus, all the telephone conversations between her and her mother would always circle back to Bruce. One day, mid breathless swoon, her mother asked her why she'd liked him so much. Diana, who had never really truly thought about it, took a minute to ruminate it in her mind, before she told her mother it was his eyes. So steely grey, but peppered with black flecks throughout. She liked the way they searched deep into her instead of just looking _at_ her, and the endearing way they slanted slightly downwards at the outer edges… the way they seemed perpetually sad.

Hippolyta used to call him Diana's melancholy boy. She used to say it in the all knowing voice mothers have. The one which was both compassionate yet cautionary. The same one Diana had become all too familiar with when she spoke to her own son. " _You think you can fix him, but he will break your heart, that melancholy boy, and then I'll have to put you back together._ " The queen's words were a half truth, half lie though; Bruce had left her battered, like a ship caught in a sea storm, but Hippolyta hadn't been there to pull her daughter out of the wreckage. Diana had been the one to put herself together again. She sometimes liked to think she was Diana 2.0 now — the all new and upgraded, model. Diana 2.0 wasn't a princess or a naive idiot, falling for the empty whispered promises of horny teenage boys. She was bold and self reliant and, most importantly, she was Jason's mother.

She would never let anyone hurt Jason.

Diana broke out of her silent reflection and whispered, "Thanks for bringing me here, Bruce." No matter how much she hated him, she appreciated him doing the right thing.

His eyes met hers and her head dropped, blushing. How just saying 'thanks' to him could make her blush blew him away. It did things to him — inappropriate things.

When they were kids, she seemed so much more confident … or more of a flirt, maybe? Bruce wanted more than anything to push her back to that place. He wanted to see what she would do, that was, if she ever let him take her there again.

"Don't thank me yet, I might have to call in a favour one day." He winked and she groaned. "Diana, I was just kidding. It's my pleasure to help you… and I think I might have only said that because I just wanted to see you blush again."

On command, her face flooded with pink, and his heart bucked in his chest to see it.

The door yanked open and the doctor walked in, a short jolly man with a belly that could make Santa jealous. He gave Diana a once over, read something off his clipboard, before he turned to address Bruce. "How's your wife? Some kind of sporting accident?"

"Wife?" Bruce choked out, jumping out of the bed and moving to stand next to the doctor.

 _Figures he'd run at the misplaced assumption of commitment,_ she thought bitterly.

Bruce would never know how much that action hurt her. Diana dissolved into a full blown panic attack. Tears started pouring down her cheeks and she was hiccoughing sobs. Her breaths were frequent but way too quick and shallow for her to get enough air. The doctor pulled a paper bag out of a cabinet and held it to Diana's mouth to help her breathe through her anxiety. She had never felt so pitiful in her life but the emotionally charged morning, the blow to her head, and her bruce-a-phobia, had all practically left her mentally impaired.

While the doctor monitored her breathing, Bruce accounted a quick run down of the accident and her symptoms.

When Diana had finally calmed, the doctor gave her a rapid examination and some painkillers, checked her short term memory, and the back of her skull to see if she had any bleeding. "Take her home and keep an eye on her for twenty-four to forty-eight hours, depending on how she's doing. We don't need to keep her here. You're right as rain about the concussion." Bruce did a double take and Diana shot the doctor such a nasty look he practically cowered and backed away holding his hands up.

"Even if you don't want him to stay with you, just make sure you get a lot of rest. You can take your time," the doctor said, as he tucked the clipboard in the crook of his arm. "Things are pretty slow around here, and there's no one waiting for the bed. Rest until you sort it out." He clicked his retractable pen in and out repeatedly as he left the room.

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Diana already knew what he was going to suggest.

"No, it's not happening. Where's my stuff? I need my phone." Her eyes glanced at her watch. There was no way she could get back to the city in time to collect Jason and Jessie on time.

"I don't have your stuff."

Diana let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course you don't. I have to call Steve."

"I can call a cab and escort you home," he suggested. His eyes dropped as he played with his thumbs.

Bruce could feel her laser vision burning into him before he even looked up at her face. How was it normal she was so beautiful even with a scowl? "And have you finding out where I live? No thank you."

He stopped himself from pointing out he needn't trouble himself so much. He could simply read it off of her CV, however he held his tongue, because he knew it would be like fanning the flames of her wildfire anger. He fished his phone out of his pocket and held it out to her.

She mumbled her thanks and grabbed the phone. Her thumb jumped with the intensity of a jackhammer as she dialed her friend's number.

Bruce started pacing to pretend he wasn't listening, though his ears were peeled better than a wild deer in the forest when a twig snapped. Their conversation was a series of sleepy whispers from her. First, she wouldn't stop telling him about something that absolutely had to be picked up at four thirty — she was particularly distressed about it. After a harping on about her package, or whatever, she eased into mentioning the accident and how she was in the clinic with Bruce. The response came as a muffled shout through the headpiece and Diana had to momentarily yank the phone away from her ear, rubbing her temple with the pads of her fingers. By the time Bruce assumed Steve had quieted, Diana told him she would be waiting at the health centre. Then she hung up.

She forced a tight smile at Bruce and handed him his phone. "Thanks. You can go now."

He took his seat next to the orthopedic bed. "I'll do no such thing. The doctor said someone needs to keep an eye on you for at least twenty-four hours. I'll be here until your friend shows up." He removed a phantom piece of fluff from his black sweater — determined not to meet her gaze — then he slid his long legs outwards and crossed them at the ankles to make himself comfortable.

Diana's eyes narrowed. "There's medical staff here. I'll be fine if something happens."

"The doctor didn't tell them to keep an eye on you, did he?" he said dryly.

"Fine," she mumbled, reclining on the bed and turning onto her other side. She was too sleepy to argue, and in any case, the plain white wall was way more appealing than his stupid, dopey (beautiful) face anyway.

It didn't take too long for her to fall asleep. Bruce bided his time watching her, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the slight upturned pout to her lips, the dusty pink flush on the apples of her cheeks. Then she shifted and groaned a little, pulling Bruce out of his trance. There could be nothing more mortifying than Diana waking up and finding him just standing there watching her sleep like some kind of creep, so to pass the time, Bruce took to pacing the small room. He fished his phone out of his pants pocket and for the umpteenth time since he'd been back in Gotham, he started scrolling through her Instagram feed. This had become as mundane to him as scratching his neck if he had an itch. He searched frequently and obsessively. Right now embers of hope were kindling with the anticipation of opening the app and seeing she had posted something new, only to have them doused in the reality that she was ill and in the same room as him, sans her phone, so obviously there were not going to be any changes. He settled for trying to reconcile, not for the first time since Clark had shown him her pictures, the woman he saw in them with the girl he knew.

He deliberated once again whether or not he should follow her. Obviously any rational person would just follow the girl they were interested in, but Bruce had been terrified to add her thinking she'd get the notification and block him. It was doubtful she would have notifications turned on for such things considering she had just under one hundred thousand followers, but it seemed smarter to err on the side of caution.

She had this whole different life in the years they'd been apart. He expected she would, but it still hurt to see how fulfilled she seemed. She was happy (and sexy) in her photos, working hard at pursuing her dreams. Empowering people through her work and being an example to them. She was always surrounded by so many people too— both kids and adults, some clients, some not, all with bright and shiny smiles and in love with her. Then there was Steve… God Steve. Bruce didn't like the way Steve looked at Diana. Bruce had always thought he was the only one capable of giving her such a look, but he hated that Steve found himself able to do so as well. He locked his phone screen and walked right over to the armchair next to the bed and slumped heavily into it.

He started drumming his fingers on his lap. Diana's head was pounding when she awoke, her eyes opened and she flinched with every single finger beat as though Bruce were repeatedly driving a nail into her spine. She started to flip over to scream at him, and although she had meant for it to be a rapid, vehement motion, her nausea returned and she almost rolled right off the bed and face planted onto the floor.

"Can't you just stay put?" He asked bracing her with a large hand on her shoulder. Her hair had fallen and covered her eyes as she hung face-first off the bed, yet somehow Diana knew before she had rolled back onto the pillow to look at him, she would find _that_ grin on his face. The lopsided one she fell in love with. The same one Jason always gave her when she caught him and he was up to no good. And so, despite her brain chanting _No! No! No!_ the instant she pushed her hair out of the way and looked up at him, Diana had to smile back.

"There you are." His thumb glided over the soft fabric covering her collarbone before he withdrew his hand and moved his arm to prop his face up at the edge of the bed. "I was worried I'd never see your smile again." Diana would smile with reckless abandon when they were younger. Even when they'd argue Bruce would fret about it for days and she would apologize and be radiant within minutes. Now he felt he would do anything for more of those sunshine smiles.

This smile, as unexpected as it was beautiful, hit him right in his solar plexus too. He had been so overcome by seeing her today, he had forgotten one of the most important things about her. He had forgotten the way she could spontaneously do things that caused a pain in his chest and made it so hard for him to breathe.

"Let's call a truce and be amicable until Steve comes?" Diana's smile dropped and his heart plummeted, so he added, "Please. I don't want to fight with you. After this evening I'll be up and out of your life like before."

"You promise?" She asked, though not unkindly.

The optimistic sincerity of those two words gutted him. He'd forgotten she used to give him this other kind of ache too. The one which felt as though he had been ripped open by a butcher's hook. With just a look or a word she could make him feel like if everything on the inside had been gashed out and he was left hollow and maimed.

He buried those feelings and decided to be patient though.

"Well I mean... I can't absolutely promise that. We live in the same city and well, I own the place you work in so…" He ran a clammy hand through his dark brown hair.

"Whatever. Talk. I'll try to be nice." She stifled a yawn and snuggled up to the pillow.

Now that he'd been given an open invitation, he couldn't think of what to say. He swiped his tongue over his plump lower lip, and Diana had to stop herself from clenching her thighs at the sight of the smooth, moist flesh.

"You know Clark told me to stay away from you?" Her eyes widened and he nodded. "Mmm hmm. He picked me up at the airport when I got back. We talked about you."

She spoke knowingly. "Clark was always wiser than you, yet you never listened." No he didn't. He'd paid so much throughout the years for not listening to Clark. Especially when it came to Diana. Clark had given him the same advice back then too, but how could Bruce ever leave her alone? She was magnetic. Diana continued, "Is he alright? And Lois? I'm not one to pick favorites but… throughout the years, I missed Lois the most."

It was mutual. Lois had always been the one who brought Diana into their conversations throughout the years. The day he'd broken up with Diana, he'd gone to Lois expecting his pixie sized friend to comfort him. Instead, she slapped his cheek so hard he still felt its sting whenever the memory came to him. Lois always took Diana's side, just as Clark did. Bruce was the cheese standing alone. "Lois misses you too… you could let me give you her number."

Diana was pensive for a moment and nibbled on her lower lip. He desperately wanted to rescue the plump, smooth piece of flesh, as it didn't deserve her abuse; her lips used to give him boundless pleasure in times past. Without thinking, his hand cupped her cheek and the pad of his thumb eased her full lip from its enamel prison.

Diana gasped, and for a second her face crumpled and he was worried she'd start crying again.

Thankfully she didn't, but she took a deep stuttering breath and said, "No, Bruce. I couldn't. I… I'm not _that_ girl anymore." The way she said it made him think she wasn't just talking about her friendship with Lois.

That statement brought so many questions to his mind. He had thought maybe she had been in Gotham on Themysciran business. She had once explained to him, after they'd been making out under their oak tree at Cadmus — hair all over the place, her lips deep red and swollen — Themyscira had spies posted in different countries around the world. He and Clark had both been speculating, since Diana had resurfaced, she was perhaps one of them. But there seemed to be a cloud of weariness hanging over Diana. He wondered if something had happened to her.

When he'd last seen her just under six years ago, it was in Metropolis. He could understand it better if he had found her there… back then it was where their school was and where her friends were. But Gotham… it just didn't make any sense.

His head cocked to the side, before he leaned closer to her. "Why are you here?"

She looked at him as if he had two heads.

"You forced me to come, I told you not to bring me to a hospital."

"I mean in Gotham." Bruce studied her like she was a crossword but he couldn't figure out her clues.

"I can't see why it's your concern. I —" Diana turned her face away from him and shut him out. Thinking things Bruce could never know and not trusting the words which were burning on the tip of her tongue.

Bruce ran his index finger along the curve of her cheekbone and she flinched. He sighed. "What do you think? That I'd hurt you? I would never hurt you, Diana." She rolled her eyes. He hated himself as soon as the words left his mouth, because they both knew it was a lie. It was, obviously, never physical but all he did was hurt her when they were teenagers and it was his bright idea which caused her to end up in the health centre right now. "I guess I already did, huh?" he admitted remorsefully.

"I didn't want to say it." She stretched out her long legs then draped an errant curl behind the curve of her ear. "But thank you for doing so for me."

In truth her skin had ignited where his fingertip grazed her and she had flinched. It wasn't so much a fear of the pain she knew Bruce would inevitably bring her, it was that she hated herself for still letting him coax these reactions out of her after all this time. All he wanted was sex anyway, and he could easily get it from any other girl — if the receptionist out front was any proof — she knew that for a fact. So why did her body still tingle whenever he drew near? Why did she still turn into a spineless mushy mess around him? And why the hell was Bruce pretending he cared all of a sudden?

It was his fault for leading her on when they were teenagers.

It was his fault for lying about loving her.

It was his fault they had broken up.

It was his fault she lost not only him, but her two other best friends in their breakup. _Divide and conquer, right?_

It was his fault she was exiled.

It was his fault Jason was being raised without a father.

Diana clenched her teeth and raged against him in her mind. Bruce had made all of the important decisions for them whether he was aware of it or not. He'd steered them off the cliff they were now hanging so precipitously off of, and now he wanted to sit right here next to her and stroke her cheek and pretend everything was fine?

And for all his so called remorse, had he even once just come straight out and apologized? Of course not, because he didn't give a shit! He never did.

Her mother had warned her about that too. " _You think you love him because he seems all mysterious and beautiful, my little sun and stars,_ " Hippolyta had said. " _But don't you worry. One day you'll step too close and your nose will catch a whiff of how rotten he is on the inside. Then you'd be wishing you'd listened to your mitéra before it was too late. They're all the same Diana, every one of them. He will drag you down sooner or later, it's what men do._ " Her mother was only partially right about that too, though. Steve and Clark weren't like that, and she would be damned if she raised Jason to be like that.

It wasn't _men._ Just Bruce.

There was a quick knock at the door and after a second, a tuft of messy blond hair appeared in the doorway, cutting through the awkward tension in the small room. Bruce huffed, leaned onto the backrest, and crossed his arms over his chest.

When Diana saw Steve her face lit up as though she were a child who had just been gifted a new toy. Bruce was the old raggedy junk the parents would have to stick together, the one you had to make do with until the bigger, better, shinier toy came along… the one a child threw aside and forgot.

"Sorry I took so long to get here, Di. I went up to the workshop to get your bag first." Steve sauntered over to the bed, and the only acknowledgment of the other man in the room came as a vague, yet crisp nod in Bruce's general direction.

Diana gripped Steve's firm bicep as he leaned over the bed, and pulled herself to sitting position. Bruce hated how close together the movement brought them. She flinched when he touched her face, but she invited Steve into her personal space with no problem?

"What about —" She stopped herself. Her eyes darted to Bruce then back at Steve.

Steve smoothed some of her hair back out of her face. "The package was picked up on time, my mom's looking after it."

Diana closed her eyes and exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Steven." Her head dropped for a second, a soft smile materialized. It was small and gentle, but she smiled with her whole face—with her eyes. Steve had gotten more from Diana in thirty seconds than Bruce had gotten the entire day.

The smile Steve returned was equally small but unbearably sweet. "Anything for you, Di." The words were whispered and Bruce felt like he was intruding on some secret they shared. Was it a secret for Steve or for herself? Or maybe the secret was that those honey-laced smiles were meant to make Bruce feel like even bigger of a horse's ass than he already felt, for pushing Diana out of his life six years ago.

Bruce cleared his throat, a bit nauseated by the display in front of him. Lifting her head, Diana sat up straighter, pushing her chin out a bit. Her posture seemed more steady than before, though her sickly pallor remained and the smile pressed into a thin straight line.

"Bruce, this is Steve Trevor." Her hand gestured between the both of them. "And Steve, well… you know who Bruce is."

Steve flashed a smile and stuck his hand out for Bruce to take. The latter studied the appendage for more time than seemed socially acceptable. He didn't like his hand, he didn't like his stupid perfect teeth and Bruce most certainly did not like the way Diana's lips caressed Steve's name after she'd been basically spitting his own at him all day. She was glaring at him over Steve's shoulder, though, so Bruce took the blonde's hand and shook it… hard. His heart soared in triumph when Steve's body faltered under the unexpected pressure of his fist.

Everything was a blur after that. More secret smiles and whispers, Steve helping her off the bed and onto her feet, his arm clinging possessively across her back holding her to his side to keep her stable.

Then, "Bye Bruce." She twiddled her fingers at him in the doorway. She didn't even care to look back at him when she did it — as though he were an afterthought.

"Wayne." Steve had nodded in Bruce's direction then pulled Diana more tightly to his side.

Bruce couldn't bear looking at the two of them. Pain sprouted at his fingertips and palms, and he looked down surprised to find his fists balled. He thought he mumbled something in response but he couldn't be sure. Saliva pooled in his mouth; he knew he might choke if he swallowed it down. When he looked up again she was gone. The only thing she left behind was her lemongrass etched into the fibers of his coat.

Despite the way seeing them together made his heartbeat falter, Bruce genuinely hoped Steve would take good care of her. He seemed attentive and caring, words no one could ever use to describe Bruce Wayne. Perhaps it was some sick joke from fate how in the time they'd been apart she'd gone and found herself an actual nice guy. Not an indecisive prick like himself. Not an idiot afraid of commitment. Steve was probably the kind of man even her mother, Her Majesty Queen Hippolyta, the Misandrystic Queen of the Amazons, could accept. Steve would actually be there for Diana instead of running away every time things got hard for them, as Bruce did.

He felt impotent.

After his day with Diana, he felt empty and somewhat happy but… mostly sad. And impotent. He hated the way he could never settle on one feeling whenever it came to Diana. This jumble of feelings coursing through him at this moment were the same as the night they'd made love.

The night he felt like her soul had snaked itself around his like a shoot of ivy; delicate and beautiful, yet slowly smothering him to death.

The night he transcended everything he knew to be real and had become so consumed with her, he'd somehow managed— however briefly— to forget his parents. He'd been carrying them like some morbid shield forged from their blood and meant to deflect others from getting too close, but that night, Diana broke right through it.

The night her warmth made him shiver and he replaced his heartbeat with her name. The night he gained everything he never even knew he wanted.

The night he lost it all.

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 **A/N: Thanks so much for reading. I hope the his side of the story vs her side of the story kind of format to this chapter, where Bruce and Diana's thought's bleed into the narrative helped you guys understand their perspectives better. Let me know what you think. :)**

 **Up Next: Bruce talks things over with Clark and Lois. Jason gives his mother a scare.**

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 **Some housekeeping:**

 **To the wonderful Guest Reviewer who left this review:** This story is a colluted mess and out of character. **I would like to take the time to tell you that colluted is not a word. I think you meant to use convoluted. You can use it as follows, "The guest's review is a convoluted mess because he/she has an inadequate grasp of the English language." No need to thank me for clearing things up for you, you're welcome :)**

 **Also, I have tried to write these characters how I think they'd react given the situations they are in. If I'm not doing a good job, I'm sorry. You can always exit off the story and not read it. Or you can provide actual constructive criticism.**

 **No one likes a troll.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful beta SaultnPeppah for making sure that this was in a read worthy condition for you all.**

 **Thanks a lot for all of the super kind and supportive feedback you guys left on my last chapter, it really means a lot.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these amazing characters. I'm just obsessed with them.**

 **Trigger warning: Chapter involves a graphic description of a seizure. So please beware if that might trouble you.**

γιαγιά- grandma

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 _ **Seven**_

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 _Gotham City now..._

He tried to be casual about it. Other children would've sneaked, but sneaking would only draw his mother's attention. He traversed the large living room with a slight skip to his wool-socked step, pressing the rooftop of his bright red fire engine with his index and middle fingers as he rolled it along the tufted padding of the white faux leather couch. When he got to the edge of the armrest, his thumb was added to the underbelly of the miniature toy vehicle and he flew it in a topsy turvy motion till he landed it on the crystalline surface of the coffee table. His lips were motorboating as he mimicked his engine's sounds, nearing little by little to his destination; the stereo.

"I can see you," his mother croaked from the other end of the living room.

"What can you see? I'm not doing anything." He pivoted slightly towards Diana. From her skewed view in the hammock, the tiny grin she could just make out was crooked and spelled pure trouble. His little stubby finger started reaching out to the power button on the glossy surface of the radio, sitting innocuously on the glass shelf of the media console.

"If you turn on the stereo and start playing Kidz Bop, I'm going to lose my mind." Her head was faced away from him, but Diana could hear Steve chortling in the kitchen where he was preparing dinner.

"But, Mama!"

"I let you play it all the time. All I'm asking for is one night of peace. I had a bad day and my head is killing me." The balls of her fingers pressed into her scalp, through the blanket of thick dark curls.

He scowled, it was a big fat lie, she never let him play it anymore. "Why'd you buy it for? If you hate it so much."

She sat up, wobbling unsteadily in the smooth silky nest of the hammock she was laying in, and looked at him gravely. "I ask myself that everyday."

To Diana, her concussion felt like being in the first trimester of her pregnancy all over again — everything became intensified. From the overwhelming scent of the herbs and spices Steve had added to the soup he was making them for dinner, to the way the knife scraping the cutting board made her wince as if he was scraping it against her sensitive flesh instead. They even had to dim the ceiling lights hanging from the exposed piping on the ceiling.

"Dinner is almost done. Why don't you give your mom a break and go wash your hands, Jase?"

"Okay," he squeaked, using his socks to skate on the laminate floor on his way to the bathroom.

Diana laid down and rolled over in the hammock, watching Jason's retreating form disappear into the guest bath, before she turned to Steve and shot him a grateful look. He winked at her, then went back to stirring the concoction he was brewing in her dutch oven.

Things were quiet for a while and she would've almost drifted off, but motherly intuition told her to open her eyes. She caught Jason just as he was trying to walk up the stairs to her loft. This was not usually a difficult task for his five year old body, but since he was doing it backwards, and his arms, from what Diana could see, were holding something to his torso, he couldn't use his hands for support against the rails. He teetered precariously on the metallic stairs and Diana's heart almost flew out of her chest.

"Jason, why are you going up to my room?"

He jolted dramatically to a halt. His head falling downwards in accepted defeat.

"I can't go up? It's my house too." She could see the damn grin even though he hadn't spun around yet.

"What are you hiding under your shirt?"

He turned unceremoniously, and with the motion a brown fuzzy paw slipped from under the hem of his bulging sweater.

"Beary." Diana mumbled, recognizing his favorite stuffed animal. She sat up. "We're supposed to use the rails when taking stairs," she lectured, trying not to cringe at how naturally she'd started talking in the third person as she often did when ever she scolded him. "And I don't want you playing in my room unsupervised anymore. Last time you broke my clock." Even from distance she could see the pink flooding his cheeks as his eyes dropped to his rainbow striped socks. "Yeah, you thought you outsmarted me and I didn't know it was you, right? I'm your mother, Jason. I know everything about you."

Jason tugged his sweater up with both hands — Diana winced, she would resist nagging him about it but, it was new and he was stretching it out of shape — and let Beary slide down his body to the surface of the step he was standing on, with a muted thud. He then skipped over to Diana and started clawing his way onto her lap, wrapping his skinny legs around her waist.

"Mama," he cajoled, his voice a sweet syrup as he looked up at her from under his lashes. "I wanna sleep with you in your bed tonight." As he said it, Steve walked up to Diana and held a spoon out to her to taste his squash soup. Diana moaned her praises at the delicious assault of the flavors on her tongue, before she nodded giving him two thumbs up.

Steve looked at her like if she'd given him a small boon of highest praise. His eyes bounced down to the creamy flesh of her neck then back up to her lips as her pink tongue darted out to lick them clean. He cleared his throat and reluctantly tore his eyes away from Diana, distracting himself by rubbing soothing circles into Jason's back.

"You really need to stop sleeping in your mama's bed, buddy. You're getting too big for that."

"But I like it," Jason reasoned, grabbing a lock of his mother's hair and holding it up to his upper lip as a pretend mustache.

"What if your mom gets a boyfriend or girlfriend? They'll wanna sleep with her."

Jason snorted and the lock of hair fluttered with the gush of breath. He then looked up at Diana with a look of utmost shock and outrage on his face, almost as if to say, "can you believe this guy?" though the words that actually left his mouth were an unfazed, "Mama's not gonna get a boyfriend."

Diana snickered and hugged Jason closer as he swayed unsteadily in her lap, silently watching the conversation unfold.

"Why not?" Steve asked.

Jason dropped the raven curl and pressed his pointer finger to his chest emphatically. "Because she's my mama. _Mine_ ," he said, as if it explained everything.

Steve chuckled and held his hands up in playful surrender and invited them both to wait for him at the table while he dished out their food.

xXxXx

It always happened when Diana least expected it. She often wondered if it made her a bad parent because she was caught off guard every single time. She'd been so hopeful Jason had been getting better, since in the month's time after his medication dosage had been increased, he'd not had a single seizure.

Jason's epilepsy constantly exploited her complacency.

Dinner had passed without a fault. For once, she had even managed to convince Jason to stay seated at the table for the entire meal without Diana having to chase him down and shove whatever little spoonfuls of food he'd let her, into his mouth.

Steve had been so eager to dote on her — even more so than usual — though if Diana knew his attentions had more to do with the reappearance of her ex-boyfriend than her concussion, she didn't let on. He had just gotten Jason to take their dessert — a serving of Etta's homemade ice cream — back to the dining table; small bowls containing Jason's "lots and lots" and Diana's "just a little." Steve always made sure they both got the same amount.

The dark haired boy had just finished setting the bowls down on the wooden surface of the table when it happened. He stood next to his chair, looking around, his smile falling. His eyes searched his mother's face confused, then they glanced around the big open living room space as if he didn't recognize it, as if it wasn't the same exact room where he'd taken his first steps, and however many more of his firsts throughout the years. His body bristled and slackened in a shudder. Then his eyes closed and he slinked to the floor like a silk ribbon.

What followed was a blur of movement and sound: The blood curdling scraping of the table legs on the laminate floor as Diana pushed it out of the way so Jason wouldn't slam his head against it on his way down, her diving across the space to kneel next to where he fell, dragging him to her lap and turning him on his side so he wouldn't choke on any saliva pooling at the back of his throat, Jason's body as it clenched and unclenched in rapid succession like a stress ball under the ministrations of a sadist. The repetitive gurgling snorts and grunts — sick wet slurping sounds — escaped his throat with every spasm, like a skipping record caught in a macabre loop, and Steve shouted, "It's been entire minute, I'll get the valium."

Diana felt something warm and wet trickling down her arm. She patted the tips of her fingers against at the corner of his mouth and swore as she realized it had been blood oozing down his cheek. "Fuck!" she hissed, grabbing a discarded napkin from the table, bunching it up between frantic fingers and wedging it between her forearm and his cheek. His tongue was trapped between his teeth, being torn to shreds with each spasm of his jaw. Diana's stomach clenched; she had no doubt the small organ would look like raw minced meat when the seizure stopped and she'd be able to pry open his jaw and get a closer look. She only hoped he wouldn't need stitches like the last time this had happened. The healing had been so awful for him… and he was already such a picky eater. "It's been too long, Steve," she said, as she saw him bending the corner from the hallway back to where they had been waiting. "We have to call an ambulance." There was no hiding the tremor in her voice.

"Not yet." Steve grunted, fumbling to open the small back medical case with Jason's medication, as his eyes drifted to his wrist watch. "Doctor Brennan said if it lasts three minutes, we give him the valium and afterwards if it continues for another two, then we call 911."

Diana nodded, but with the adrenaline coursing through her veins it seemed like an imperceptible muscle spasm, before she flipped Jason onto his stomach, helping Steve pull down his clothing so he could administer the medication correctly. Then came the waiting game, neither her nor Steve's eyes leaving the face of his Timex as they counted down the seconds to see if Jason's body would still in time. Every tick of the hand on the watch felt like it was pulling their tension taut; only time would tell if it would burst under the pressure or slacken with their relief.

xXxXx

"There you go little guy," Steve whispered with a sigh, as he placed Jason on top of the blankets of Diana's bed. He looked frail and so ghostly white as he lay there sleeping, so unlike the live wire he had been mere minutes ago. Steve winced at the irony, as he tucked Beary under the arm of the sleeping child; it cost Jason more than he should ever have had to pay, but he did eventually get to sleep in his mother's bed. Diana would need to keep an eye on him.

Steve rolled his head from side to side trying to work out the stress-kinks that knotted the toned muscles at the back of his neck. He could feel Diana looking at him from behind, could feel weariness floating off of her. The thought of turning to look at her scared him; he knew there was nothing he could do to make it better at times like this… even less he could say. He hated these moments so much.

Diana's bedroom seemed suddenly so huge to her as she stood at the top of the stairs looking at the smear of her son's dried blood on her forearm; it was so bright against the white of her skin, such a shocking reminder of his mortality.

Maybe in actuality she felt very small. Everything felt bigger—bigger than normal—until she felt strong hands on her, pulling her. Then Steve was right there saying nothing, sliding his hands across her back, holding her close, comforting and surrounding her with the slow rise and fall of his breath

She felt it all, all the way to the tips of her toes, yet somehow outside of herself, as if she was looking in. It all seemed like a virtual reality simulation; incredibly lifelike, but not real.

xXxXx

The slight tremor and rise of the mattress roused Diana from her sleep the next morning. She could feel the warmth of her favorite little body hovering over her before she even opened her eyes and her mouth widened in a smile.

" _Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?"_ she asked, slipping into the Greek that came so easy when it was just the two of them.

Jason yawned and stretched, before climbing on top of her, resting his head on her chest.

" _Yes, but my tongue hurts and it's fat and heavy_ ," he said with a slight lisp.

" _It's swollen you mean. You bit it pretty hard during your seizure last night. But it doesn't look too bad. I'll give you some pain medication with your breakfast. Do you remember anything?_ "

" _I remember Uncle Steve saying ice cream and… now I'm here._ "

Diana traced his features with the tip of her index finger, then she stopped to kiss the crown of his head. Jason turned and braced his chin on his mother's sternum so he could look up at her, then eyes fell, he didn't like when she looked at him that way… like if he could break.

" _I'm sorry, Mama._ "

" _For what?_ "

" _You're sad 'cause I scared you again_."

" _I'm sad, it's true. But it's not your fault, I never ever want you to think that. Do you understand?_ "

His lips wrinkled in a pout.

Diana sat up pulling him with her so that they were still cuddling, but her eyes were able to move over him better. Her body was still lethargic from her concussion, so she slouched heavily against the headboard. His head was tucked to the side looking over at the massive overflowing bookcases covering the western wall of Diana's loft, his feet hooked at the ankles as he tightened his legs around her waist.

" _Hey, look at me._ " Jason dragged his cheek against the soft material of her grey t-shirt as he turned to look up at her. " _I'm going to tell you something that might not make any sense to you now and it might be too hard for you to understand, because you're so little. But I want you to try your best to remember these words and one day when you're grown and you're alone, and perhaps I'm not around anymore — or maybe it will be when you have a child of your own — you'll think of me, and these words will mean something to you, and you will know why I could never be mad at you for being ill. Do you think you can do that for me?"_

He nodded, his big eyes focused intently on his mother's face. Diana smiled sadly.

" _The minute the doctor pulled you out of my belly and placed you on my chest, your tiny hand wrapped its way around my finger."_ She wiggled her right index to show him exactly which one, then she playfully tapped it to his nose, smiling at his little giggle. " _It felt like I was cradling the warmth of a thousand stars in my arms. You stitched my broken heart back together, my love. There was a scared little girl shaking inside of me, right here._ " She grabbed his wrist and pressed his open palm over her heart. " _That little girl almost crumbled under the weight of this world. But you saved me, you understand? You needed me and because of that, I had to become strong_.

" _In our souls we are one. In your love I found myself. You're my healer, Iasonas. You know, I couldn't choose a name for you the entire time you were in my belly?_ " His eyes widened and in response Diana shrugged and shook her head. " _Nothing ever seemed right. But when I saw you, I knew the scared little girl inside of me could get better; you had healed me. That's what Jason means: healer_."

" _What's a healer?"_

His mother contemplated the best way to explain it do him. She didn't just want a succinct emotionless definition from a dictionary. She wanted him to feel it deep in the marrow of his bones, the kind of healer he was to her; so he'd never forget.

" _You know that song Barbara always sings to Jessie?"_

A fond smile stretched his features and crinkled the corners of his eyes. Jason nodded before saying in English, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."

You make me happy when skies are grey.

" _That's what a healer is. It's what you are. Jason, you are the only thing that matters to me, do you understand? I'm incomplete without you. You saved me, my little sun and stars. I don't care if you're sick and it makes me afraid sometimes. I only care that you keep getting hurt and I can't figure out how to make you better, like you did for me._ "

xXxXx

" _Wanna come paint my wall?_ " Jason asked in the early afternoon when he got bored of playing with his Legos. Diana shut her book, and sat up on the couch looking down towards the hallway where Jason's voice called from. His small pale face was hanging out of the doorway of his room. They had spent the day lazing around the house. Going down to Etta's and Barbara's for a visit had been a no go because the couple would be out all day, so they'd had to settle for each other's company.

Usually their Saturday mornings were spent at the yoga studio where Diana gave free children's classes in an effort to contribute in her own small way to the Gotham Epilepsy Foundation. The non profit organization had done so much to help her son and so many other kids throughout the years, so giving back however she could seemed like the least she could do. But, since she was still meant to be taking it easy after her concussion, and Jason was always very sluggish for a day or two after a really big seizure, they had been both keeping themselves occupied at home in their favorite ways: Diana curled up with a book on the couch and Jason in his room playing with his toys (lamentably sans Kidz Bop).

" _I think that's an exceptional idea. You grab the paints and brushes, and I'll get the water._ "

It had all started as mindless scribbles when Jason was two and she'd left him unattended with markers while she was making lunch. Then somehow it had spiraled so far out of control that now it had become their mission to cover every square inch of wall in his room with their drawings.

She knew some people might turn up their noses at the riot of colors and shapes slowly engulfing the muted green in which she had originally painted his bedroom when she was still expecting him, but Diana had sacrificed every valuable possession her mother had snuck into her luggage when she was leaving Themyscira, to buy this apartment for them. The least she could do was let Jason enjoy it. And anyhow, she always wanted his room to be a sanctuary and safe place for him, somewhere where he could go to escape — even from her if he needed to — and be happy and not worry about anything. So if her son wanted paint the walls, then by the Gods, Diana would let him do so.

" _What will you paint?_ " Diana asked after she'd finished draping an old plastic shower curtain over the bed so that they wouldn't mess up his sheets. Jason had chosen the spot right over his bed head to paint his soon to be masterpiece.

"Hmmm…" He lightly bit the end of his paintbrush, in earnest contemplation. He sat on one heel as his chin rested on the knee of his other leg which he had folded up against his body. " _You and me and my daddy Bruce._ "

She clicked her tongue in frustration. " _Jason_."

"Ma." His tone matched the whiny objection of his mother's.

Diana sighed and brushed his wispy bangs out of his face. " _I just don't want you getting your hopes up_."

" _I'm not. You said my room is my_ _space. And my daddy is a part of me so I think he should be a part of my space, too_."

She studied her son for a long time. She wished she could slide into one of his cranial sutures, invade his mind and see what he was _really_ thinking. The last thing she wanted was for Jason to start hoping Bruce was going to show up and be a part of his life, especially since the latter didn't even know he had a son. Even after how he'd treated her, till this day, Diana always felt guilty for not telling Bruce about Jason.

She remembered walking down the hallway to his apartment in Metropolis, around six years ago. The space was narrow and lit by bright fluorescent bulbs whose white light bleached the color out of everything they touched. The grey paint on the walls was only broken up by the elevator doors and the entrance to his apartment. She'd rung the doorbell and knocked and banged on the door until Bruce had reluctantly let her in.

He'd looked so hopeless and tired. His eyes blackened with what seemed to be the herald of impending danger, as he had swung open the door and stepped aside for her to enter. Diana remembered how she had reached her hand out to grab his and the way he'd spurned her with this awe-filled look of disgust on his face, as if she was repulsive, like if it had been the most outrageous thing in the world she'd even dare to try and touch him.

Then he'd started talking to her and telling her how she meant nothing to him. He had just wanted to sleep with her since the day they had met and how she wasn't even worth the months she'd made him wait for it. She remembered thinking, as he had spoken to her so detached, his voice like a shard of hard cold ice, his words had seemed so calculated almost as if he'd been rehearsing them. In the end it didn't really matter if what he had said was premeditated; the words had struck with the desired fatality and the salve of time had done nothing to soothe their sting.

If she wasn't so desperate then, she'd have shouted right back at him and reminded him _he_ was the one who had left her naked and alone, in the middle of the forest. She'd have screamed at him that he had no right to be looking at her with cold unfeeling eyes now, when mere months before he had literally been so very deep inside of her body shuddering, and whispering how good it felt, and how much he loved her with his voice breathless and hot against her ear. Bruce had torn her heart open so he could fit himself inside it, and now he wanted to force himself out of that delicate organ and leave it with a gaping Bruce shaped hole that no one else would ever be able to fill.

But Diana had been way beyond her pride and arguing with him by then. There was no going back to Themyscira, no more Princess Diana, no more mother to kiss away her troubles; just her and Bruce and their never ending fights caused by the noose of pain he had hanging around his neck. The one he would never let her help him cut off.

But they would soon become three. He _had_ to understand. He _had_ to listen

The hard floor had bruised her knees when she dropped at his feet. She had begged him, her voice thick with her tears and desperation, to stop and to think about what he was saying and try to remember the way they burned bright when things were good between them. They'd fought lots of times before, but they had never been spiteful. Spite was always off limits to them — they seemed to have an unspoken agreement about that. When she had tried to touch him again, it had been an attempt to grab the loose cloth of his jeans covering his thighs, and use her grip on the stiff material to shake some sense back into him, but he had side stepped out of the way so abruptly that she almost fell on her face.

"Why are you saying these things, Bruce?" she had said, looking up at him through her tears. "I thought we were friends."

Though _friends_ was such an ungenerous definition for what they were and they both knew it.

His stone expression had faltered at her words. He looked torn and his hand flinched to reach out to her. But then the mask had been put back so quickly, that she often wondered if it had been a trick played on her by her own eyes searching desperately for any sign he hadn't meant what he'd said.

"We were never friends, Diana." He had said his eyes staring past her, to the wall next to the front door. "We hooked up a lot and we fucked once, that hardly qualifies us as friends."

Diana often looked back on that day and wondered whether or not she should've just screamed out "I'm pregnant." Whether or not it would have changed anything. If it would have made him feel even an iota of remorse so he would find it within himself to take her in his arms and whisper excuses into her hair like he always used to. But how could she invite the person who'd said such vile things to raise a child with her? How was she ever supposed to look at her son with love and pride when she would look at his father and only remember her heartache and shame?

She sighed as she looked down at Jason still sitting there waiting patiently for her to respond.

She decided right then as she stared into her son's sweet and innocent eyes to let that memory go. Holding on to it only hurt her, she didn't want the pain it caused to rear its ugly head and one day manifest as her hurting Jason.

Parenting was always such a delicate balance between letting go and holding on.

Just because she had seen Bruce the day before at the workshop and all these memories and feelings she had buried were now trying to unearth themselves, it didn't mean she should allow him to come in and taint the love she had for Jason.

" _Okay, baby. Do what you want_ ," she whispered, eventually.

" _When we're done, can we put it on Instagram_?"

" _No, I don't think we should_."

" _Why_?"

Bruce might see.

" _Because some things should be just for us_."

" _Okay_."

Jason studied the tubes of gouache in front of him, his tiny hand hovering over them as he deliberated which colors to choose. " _What's he look like, my daddy Bruce?_ "

Diana was thoughtful as she did a once over of Jason's features. He had his father's skin, so pale in places that the blue of his veins showed through with minimal effort. His brows, chin, and jaw were strong, forged from a rigid masculinity that she could never claim had been passed down from her. Jason had the same dark-brown, bone straight hair that only waved ever so slightly around the contour of the nape of his neck. Diana loved to pet him there with the pads of her fingers just as much as she used to love doing it to Bruce. Even his eyes turned downwards in the corners like his father, but the similarity ended there. Jason's eyes weren't sad like Bruce's. The feisty sparkle in them was perhaps the only thing he'd inherited from her side of the gene pool.

One could not deny Jason was Bruce's son, if you put their pictures next to each other with no context, even a blind man could sniff it out.

"Just like you," she said eventually. Her tone held a reluctant acceptance as her eyes drank in his features. Facing Bruce yesterday had suddenly made her see their similarities when up until then, she could only see their differences. "Except your eyes. You have my mother's eyes, you're a green eyed little viper just like she is," Diana said, digging her fingers into Jason's ribs, tickling him and he cackled, eyes shining like the clearest emeralds. The shade of green was a bit different from her mother's, it was true, but Diana couldn't help but remember Hippolyta when the light held Jason's eyes just right… as it had been right then in his room.

Her mother would have loved him.

" _This is your fall,_ " Hippolyta had said right before Diana had to catch the ferry to leave the island for the last time. " _But you are my daughter and you are strong; like a Phoenix you will rise from these ashes. Never forget who you are. Never forget where you come from._ " Her mother had taken both of Diana's hands into hers. She looked over her daughter's tear streaked face as though she was learning her by heart, then her voice broke, " _Know always Diana, that you are my greatest love and I will always carry you with me_." And she'd turned her back and left.

She missed her mother.

What she wouldn't give to just see her face — not the stony visage of the the queen, larger than life, who sometimes appeared on international news — but the gentle smiles Diana had known of a simple woman as human as anyone else.

Or to sit at Hippolyta's vanity as she used to every night, feel the gentle tug and release of the brush her mother would run through her hair, while her daughter basked in the comfort of her vanilla and wise words.

To hold her…

Diana sighed, turned her head and pointed to her cheek. Jason kissed her ten times in succession, taking his time to count each one, planting them all over her face. His lips were wet and squishy and Diana loved them more than anything.

" _Hey! I have an idea,"_ the boy said, after they'd calmed down and he had begun swirling his brush in some peach paint Diana had helped him mix. _"While I paint us, you can paint_ _γιαγιά_ _on the wall. She should be part of my space too, 'cause she's a part of you_."

She had to blink back tears as she nodded.

What did she do to deserve Jason? To have his love and warmth? To even be worthy of existing in the same time and place as he? To have the honor of being his mother?

Suddenly it didn't seem so hard to forget Bruce, his words, the feelings he had stirred.

Her shame.

Jason would be the only thing that mattered.

Always

xXxXx

"So here's the thing" Bruce said, chucking a peanut into his mouth. "I'm going to wait for her. No more one night stands, no more parties, no more swimsuit models. I'm going to show her I'm done with all that, and how I'm willing to wait until she's ready."

He and his best friends, were sitting in their usual spot at the bar they frequented on Wednesdays for drinks. It had been one hundred and twenty hours and ten minutes since he'd spent the day with Diana, or five days in layman's terms (not that he was counting), but due to Lois and Clark's hectic schedules as investigative reporters, he hadn't had the time to update them on what had happened during his and Diana's reunion.

Clark was not impressed.

"And what if she's never ready?"

"She will be." He didn't add the _I hope_ echoing in his brain.

"Don't you think you're putting a lot of expectation and pressure on her? She said she hates you. You're setting yourself up for unnecessary heartbreak _when_ she turns you down."

Bruce's body tensed with the stinging retort he was about to release on Clark, when Wally, their bartender, butted in. "You guys have been talking about this Diana for over an hour." He turned to Bruce and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Is she a cutie?"

Bruce's palm flexed around the unyielding glass of bourbon in front of him. "Diana isn't what I'd call a cutie."

Lois' head snapped around to look at her friend her eyes almost popping out of her head. Clark's jaw dropped.

"I know it's what's on the inside that counts. But there are going to be so many broken hearted hot babes in Gotham if you just give it all up for some ugly —"

"Let's get this straight, _Waldo_ ," Bruce spat, looking at the younger man condescendingly. "Diana is not a cutie. Cute is like a five or a six. Diana is a freaking twenty on a scale of one-to-ten. She's fucking hot and amazing and… effervescent! And these so called hot babes in Gotham can't even dream of holding the torch to her." Wally's cheeks tinged red as he turned to the other end of the bar, they were all seated at, hoping to find some mess to clean up.

Lois snickered under her breath as she watched him walk off.

"You know Diana's not here spying on you, right? No need for the ostentation, Brucie. Take it down a notch, we already know you want to be with her sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Lois teased, pushing her mid-length brown hair over her shoulder.

Bruce was not amused and grumbled his displeasure. He absolutely hated it when Lois called him Brucie, but he knew she was just trying to rile him up. Lois was wrong, though, ostentation was imperative because no other woman in this world could compare to Diana.

Clark appeared even less impressed as he turned to his best friend. "Would it kill you to be nice to people every now and again?"

"Would it kill Wally to stay out of our business when we come here?" In all honestly Bruce did like the guy, he was just a little too pushy at times. Like a kid brother you could never get rid of. Not that Bruce would know what that was like. There would be a photograph of him as the prime example of an 'only child' next to its definition, if the good people at Merriam-Webster included pictorial examples.

Lois stood on the iron circular footrest of her barstool, using her increase in height to reach her petite body over to Clark and whisper something in his ear. Bruce watched as the tops of his friend's ears burned bright red, before she pecked him on his cheek returned to her seat. Clark smiled shyly and took a swig of his beer.

Bruce tried not to frown, he always admired the simplicity of Clark and Lois' relationship. His relationship with Diana had been way too tempestuous to ever have such ease. Even still, Diana was the only girl who could whisper sweet nothings in his ears which caused him to erupt in gooseflesh, or make everything better when he found himself in a particularly low mood. He hoped that one day he would be able to make her remember.

"So," Clark started, motivated by whatever Lois had told him to play nice with Bruce and change the topic. "What are you going to do to occupy your time? You've been back in Gotham for a few weeks now. You have a plan?"

Bruce's grin was as lopsided as it was genuine.

"As a matter of fact I do. You remember Lucius Fox, head of Wayne Tech? He was so impressed by how I handled things at the workshop that he offered me a position with the Tech Division. They're setting up my office right now, they assured me it would be right down the hall from Diana's gym. I start on Monday."

With that he stood up and made his way to the gents, leaving his best friends slack jawed as they watched his retreating form.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Don't be too hard on Bruce. He was a teenager and an idiot. He will make up for things as an adult. Plus, we still don't know his side of the story.**

 **Up Next: Bruce and his friends will finish their convo. We will flashback to the events following Bruce and Diana's first date as teens.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful beta SaultnPeppah for making sure that this was in a read worthy condition for you all.**

 **Disclaimers: I could only wish I owned the justice league. Possibly some sketchily used Greek below.**

 **Friendly reminder that this story is rated M.**

* * *

 ** _Eight_**

* * *

 _Previously..._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"So," Clark started, motivated by whatever Lois had told him to play nice with Bruce and change the topic. "What are you going to do to occupy your time? You've been back in Gotham for a few weeks now. You have a plan?"_

 _Bruce's grin was as lopsided as it was genuine._

 _"As a matter of fact I do. You remember Lucius Fox, head of Wayne Tech? He was so impressed by how I handled things at the workshop that he offered me a position with the Tech Division. They're setting up my office right now, they assured me it would be right down the hall from Diana's gym. I start on Monday."_

 _With that he stood up and made his way to the gents, leaving his best friends slack jawed as they watched his retreating form._

 _xXxXx_

 _Gotham City now..._

"Your degree is in criminology," Clark said pointedly, before Bruce could even slide onto the barstool next to him.

"So? I have the skills needed for the job."

"Skills? What skills? Your _skills_ got Diana a concussion." Bruce looked unimpressed with Clark's ranting. "You're just doing it to get close to her."

"No shit, Sherlock. You figure that out on your own?" Bruce deadpanned.

"I think you should do it." Lois looked at her friend as if it were the best idea she'd ever heard. Clark turned to Lois, dazed and confused. He suppressed a response though. He was having a tough week at work, the last thing he needed was to say the wrong thing and make her mad at him.

It was no easy feat keeping his mouth shut though, as his eyes started narrowing as though he were wincing in pain. A lone curl on his widow's peak popped forward onto his forehead right then, only adding to his strained expression.

Bruce smirked at the familiarity. Clark could use a metric ton of gel, but that curl always popped forward.

"What?" Lois asked, looking at her boyfriend. "I miss Diana. I think it would be good for him to be close to her, maybe that way we can see her again and find out why she has been hiding from us if she was right here all this time."

Bruce's smile would stun even a hundred watt bulb.

"Honestly, Lo, I like the way you think."

xXxXx

 _Cadmus five-and-a-half years ago..._

Lois could hear someone talking in the stables. It was already bad enough she had to take her precious Saturday morning to get a lead on the story Vicki was supposed to be working on, but now she had the added threat of getting caught out of bounds in the process.

The stables at Cadmus had obviously been built so that equine lovers at the school could have access to their gigantic four legged friends during the school year, but there was a strict policy against being in the stables unsupervised during certain times of day. It was a serious infraction, punishable by a week of detention.

Lois sighed as she pulled her black hoodie up over her short hair. She was no stranger to detention, but since some freak of nature had been stealing hay from the horses' food supply, she would risk it all again for a chance to break the story of the century at Cadmus.

She groaned inwardly. Okay, so there was more horrible crap happening all over the world, but _this_ Lane was going to be a serious investigative reporter one day. She'd promised her mother, Ella, on her deathbed, as she'd laid there in her skeletal, cancer ravaged body, that her daughter would get a Pulitzer if it was the last thing she ever did. And to achieve this, Lois needed to get a job with a good newspaper, but most importantly she needed experience.

"There are no small stories only small journalists," she told herself, as she tugged her hoodie once more so it fell over her eyes and yanked on the gigantic metal hatch keeping the stables closed.

She'd expected to catch the criminal in the act. Or maybe some horny teens going at it in one of the only available people-free spaces on campus.

Perhaps she'd even thought she'd find the stable hands tidying up and doing their rounds, even though she'd previously checked their roster and knew that they wouldn't appear until ten o'clock.

What she had not expected was the princess. Yet there she was, lying on the back of the most glorious horse Lois had ever seen. The stallion's coat shone in a brilliant gold. Lois smirked, ' _fit for royalty'._

The journalist approached the princess quietly, afraid to break up the happy whispers she was breathing into the horse's mane. Her body was draped with carefree ease on the horse's back, while one arm hugged his neck to support her. The other held the book she was currently reading. Lois could just make out the name _Sappho_ , from the bold lettering on the cover.

Lois cleared her throat and Diana's back arched as she lifted her head towards the other girl. Her long black hair mingling with the golden blond of the horse's mane.

Diana flashed a broad smile in greeting then said, "Reading translated poetry is a bit like eating your favorite dessert with plastic covering your tongue, don't you think?"

"I… uh… yeah, I guess so, sure."

Lois hadn't read much translated poetry.

Her eyes fell to the princess' bare shoulders peeking through the cascading rivulets of curls as she swung her right leg over the horse and dismounted the animal. "Aren't you cold?"

"I am now. Areion was keeping me very warm," she said, giving two sturdy pats to her horse's rump. "Now I have to settle for catching hypothermia and smelling like a racehorse." She smiled once again and nuzzled the stallion's muzzle before she went over to grab the sweater and coat she had thrown over an open stall door. She handed her book to Lois, before shrugging on her clothing over her tank top.

"Are you a…" Lois' hesitated as she double checked the title on the cover.

"A what?" Diana's gaze followed Lois' to her book. Her eyes widened and her full lips pressed into a smirk. "Oh, a lesbian? I don't think so, I'm pretty sure I like men too." She winked at the pretty brunette, then turned around to lead the horse back into his stall, before bolting him in securely.

Lois nodded woodenly then, true to form, her curiosity got the better of her. "I thought maybe that's why you and Bruce didn't work out."

Diana whipped her head around, her hair fanning about her. Her pale blue eyes bore intently into Lois' sapphire ones. "Did he say something to you?"

"No, he wouldn't say anything at all."

"We slept together. Then the next morning he couldn't even look at me."

Lois' jaw dropped into an expression that Diana misinterpreted as silent accusation.

"No, not like that. We had a… how do you call it? A slumber party. Not sex. Maybe I have really bad morning breath, or maybe I snore? He's been avoiding me since then."

Lois paused thoughtfully for a moment, shifting her jaw from side to side. "Bruce has problems handling emotions sometimes. His life hasn't been easy and people tend to judge him unfairly, or use him to get what they want."

"I would never do that." It was barely a whisper, and Diana's eyes shifted downward as she twirled a curl around her finger.

"You know that. But _he_ doesn't. Be gentle and give him time." Lois stepped closer and patted Diana on her arm, then her eyes sparked with an idea. "He and Clark are waiting for me in the library. Wanna come?

"I thought Bruce went home on weekends?"

"Usually he does, but he's stayed because of the game tonight. Clark's playing."

Diana looked unsure. "Bruce would probably hate it if I came with you."

"Doesn't matter. Clark and I like you, he's outnumbered."

"What if he says something?"

"Then I'll sort him out, don't you worry." Diana grinned at the mere idea of someone as tiny as Lois _sorting out_ Bruce, but her joy was short lived as her mind kept running back to Bruce. After their night together, she had felt his absence. Diana genuinely liked Bruce and wanted to get to know him, but… it didn't seem as though he felt the same way, about her. It had been an entire month since their night at the lookout. An entire month of him averting his eyes whenever she appeared nearby, or ducking out of rooms just as she'd mustered up the courage to walk up to him. Then, as if she needed any reminder of how much he didn't miss her even a tiny bit, he was almost always with Vicki.

Bruce's behavior made something in her chest strain with longing. She could still feel his kisses on her neck… could still feel the sting of his fingers tugging her hair. Bruce was experienced. She had no doubt about it — not after the way he had strummed her body like a maestro during the five minutes she let him. Maybe he felt her bumbling innocence and decided she wasn't worth his time.

She bit her lip as she thought of another excuse to give to Lois.

"I haven't even been to the library since I've been here." Her eyes screwed shut. Was that really the best she could do?

"You know what they say, having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card." Lois chuckled awkwardly hoping Diana would join in with her, but the other girl could only muster a grimace.

"I like your bracelets," Lois said, changing the topic, as her eye caught a flash of silver as the princess rolled her coat sleeve up a bit.

"They're my bracelets of submission. All of the Amazons wear them. They're mostly for fashion now, but they were traditionally worn as a reminder of our enslavement — most of the jewelry we wear is. They help us remember the days when the first Amazons were captured by Heracles and his soldiers. The days when they chained us, beat us, raped us and kept us against our will. Before Hera led us to the island. Hippolyta the first, used her chains to strangle Heracles to death, liberating our people. Then someone broke the chain connecting her cuffs. She wore those cuffs until she died. Even to this day they're still used as defensive weapons in our training."

Lois approached cautiously and ran her fingers along the cool metal. She could see the scuff marks where Diana's gauntlets had clearly taken more than just one beating before. "This is so rad. Now you have to come with me and show this to Clark. He'll never believe me if he doesn't see it."

Diana looked down at the shorter girl, still uncertain about whether or not she was ready to face Bruce.

xXxXx

They had been sitting in one of the aisles of the library. Lois was on Clark's lap as his huge frame was supported by a bookcase. Diana and Bruce were squeezed next to each other, the sides of their bodies constantly rubbing with every movement they made. Diana's heart was racing, though she thought she was doing a pretty good job of acting indifferent.

She was so caught up in looking at the tiny waves of hair at the nape of his neck and dreaming about sliding her fingers through them, that she hadn't noticed her companions had stopped their whispering. Bruce turned to look at her and something just inside her ribcage gave a little shudder, then she realized he was stifling some sinusy noise that wanted to evolve into a snigger, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What?"

Lois let out a low chuckle. "We were asking what your plans were for tonight, but by all means, keep staring at Bruce, we've been told he's beautiful."

Red seeped into Diana's cheeks, before she cocked her head high and said, "Lex invited me to his house."

"Luthor? You're going to that asshole's house?" asked Lois.

"We have to work together on a history assignment. And besides, he said he was lonely and wanted some company."

"Yeah, I bet he does," Bruce grumbled. He really had to wonder though, how naive was this girl? Couldn't she see it was simply a transparent excuse on Lex's part to get her alone with him?

"He's _not_ an asshole. He seems really nice." She turned to Clark for support but he held his hands up, pleading the fifth. "People can change," she insisted turning back to Lois and Bruce.

Bruce sighed hopelessly. Very naive it seemed.

"Once a douchebag, always a douchebag," said Clark.

"Yeah it's like Newton's lesser known First Law of Fuckboys. It's practically gospel." Lois nodded emphatically.

"Besides, Bruce is throwing a party tonight to celebrate _when_ we win the game this evening. You should come with us," Clark offered. "More fun and better company than Luthor, that's for sure."

Diana nodded half heartedly, before she looked over at Bruce, who seemed taken by the bookcase next to her head.

"Great. Now, we're gonna go get some homework done. Lo and I will be in the box," Clark said, nodding to the other side of the library where there were some small glass rooms with whiteboards where students could study in groups without interrupting the silence of the library.

Things were quiet for a while after they left. Diana started scanning the books on the bottom shelf next to Bruce's legs.

"You look really nice, today, you know that?"

He wanted to kick himself hard as soon as he'd said it. Of course she _knew_. It was obvious. Diana was one of those girls who was perfectly aware of her beauty and enjoyed it. You'd never see her feigning modesty or turning down compliments. Why was he wasting his breath?

 _Because I want to see her smile._

She stroked the spine of a thick book just above the toe of his loafers, with her index finger. "Why were you ignoring me, Bruce? Did I do something wrong?" She rolled the 'r' in his name, just as he loved her to, but he barely noticed it because guilt was washing over him.

"No."

He knew she deserved a more elaborate response, but how could he explain to her that he'd woken up with her breath hot against his neck, and _his_ arms encircling _her_ , and something so asinine as that had almost killed him?

He had never allowed this to happen with any other girl before. He had rules and sharing a bed after sex — or for actual sleeping — was always out of the question. That night he'd fallen asleep with Diana on her terms; her long toned limbs wrapped around him holding him close. But in the morning... He had found himself wrapped around her. Like if his body was subconsciously trying to claim some kind of ownership over her, when _he_ was the one who supposedly didn't do relationships in the first place.

Bruce remembered feeling like his chest was collapsing, and how he couldn't breathe. He'd started pulling away but she woke and smiled, all happy and carefree. As if it was the greatest thing in the world waking up in his arms. Like if he wasn't an asshole, who'd eventually hurt her. Like if he didn't inevitably destroy everything he laid his hands on.

"Look Diana, I'm not the guy you think I am. I'm only good at the physical stuff, I suck at relationships."

"How would you know what kind of guy _I_ think you are? I haven't even told you."

"You think I'm nice, you're mistaken. I wasn't ignoring you. I was saving you from myself."

"I think it's belittling you think you have the authority to decide who or what I need protecting from. Trust me Bruce, I am perfectly capable of defending myself." She was using her scolding voice again, but she somehow managed to smile gently and look into his eyes with such force and intensity, it was like looking at the sun; he had to turn away.

She ducked her head down and met his gaze again, and her voice softened. "I like spending time with you. I can be with you on your terms. I won't overstep your boundaries if you leave them clearly defined. I can take what you give me."

Oh he bet she could...

He crooked his finger at her and she curled into the space between his legs just as she'd done the night at the lookout. She still felt just as good in his arms, he couldn't stop himself from burying his face in her hair.

When he pulled away from the raven coils, he placed a hand at the base of her skull and craned her head back. God she had such beautiful eyes… it seemed unreal that she wanted him of all people. The white of her teeth pressed into her lower lip and he pried it free, soothing the soft flesh with delicate caresses of his thumb.

He wanted to taste her.

"Bruce wait." She pulled away so quickly that his lips collided with her forehead. The sensation had been so unexpected he jerked back on impact, though they remained huddled on the carpeted floor of the library; an entanglement of limbs, as his eyes searched hers questioningly. "Vicki," was all she offered in response. The name was breathed out on a sigh.

"I told you already, don't worry about her. I don't date, she doesn't care if I see other people."

' _I care, Bruce,'_ Diana wanted to say, but she knew better. "Let's define those boundaries I was just talking about — since we're doing this with third parties involved on your end."

"They can be involved on your end too, you know." He said it to be diplomatic, but his grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

She waved a hand dismissing him. "I don't need anyone else." Her intense gaze met his. "First: you have to promise to never lie to me."

He was sucked right into those pale blue orbs. "I promise."

"Second: no kissing on the mouth. It's too intimate. I already have to share your body with other people, I don't want to have to share your mouth too. Besides, it's like you said, what we will have is just physical… kissing provokes feelings."

Bruce groaned, his head falling back against the wall. His big mouth really did put him in the doghouse with that one. "Fine. No kissing on the mouth, anything else?"

"And third: I get to decide if we go through with something."

He balked. Did she think he was some kind of rapist?

"That's always how it goes, Princess. I won't push you and I won't hurt or lie to you on purpo-ssse." The last part of his vow came out as an exaggerated hiss, because Diana had already latched onto the sensitive flesh of his neck working it between her lips and tongue.

xXxXx

"You know, here in America it's impolite to be antisocial at parties."

It had been a couple of hours since the party had started, the shouts of rowdy teenagers deafening in the dead of night. Bruce had spent the entire night trying his hardest not to pounce on Diana too soon. When Clark and Lois disappeared into the guest bedroom they always shared at this house, he knew he had his opening. He'd found her sitting by herself at the water fountain on his deck. She was studying the stone mermaids squirting the crystalline liquid from their mouths as she copied them with fluttering pencil strokes on her otherwise blank page.

"You know in America it's also impolite for hosts to abandon their guests," came her retort, her eyes jumping constantly between her sketch and the fountain. She was really good at it too, he would have never suspected that about her. He wondered what other secrets she was keeping from him.

"Touché," was his distracted response. Her eyes snapped up to his, only to find them searching the contents of her lap, and Diana shut her sketchbook.

"I didn't know you were an artist."

"I'm not. It's a school assignment." Bruce thought it was _some_ assignment then, because it looked amazing. He reached for the clothbound sketchbook but she slid it next to her and out of his reach. He knew she was politely telling him to fuck off.

"I didn't know you were a nerd who did homework at parties, either."

She started to snigger but it ended with the gentle chattering of her teeth. He noticed how pink the tip of her nose was, and his brow furrowed. She was wearing a thick knitted sweater, but the chilly autumn day had turned into a bleak night.

"It's cold out here, Princess." He extended his hand out to her. "Let me take you somewhere quiet inside, I'll warm you up." Diana exhaled harshly and rolled her eyes, it was all show though, because she smiled right after. "Not like that. Somewhere with a radiator and a surface where you can finish your drawing."

Diana slid her fingers between his and followed him. She was keenly aware of all the mouth-agape stares and whispers following them as Bruce led her through his living room — the epicentre of the party. She hoped people wouldn't talk about it too much at school on Monday and instead, they would remain preoccupied with their celebrations of the football team winning the game. Student gossip would inevitably reach the staff, and she was certain Maxwell Lord, in a fit of stupidity, would not hesitate to report to her mother that she ran away from campus and spent the night with Bruce Wayne.

She didn't even want to think about what her mother would say. She would worry about that later.

xXxXx

Bruce hadn't realized he was smiling until he felt the ache building in his cheeks. He brought his hand up to his jaw and massaged the soft tissue there — sore, in protest of being held in such an foreign position for so long— with the pads of his fingers.

He sat perched on the edge of the massive mahogany desk in what used to be his grandfather's study, watching a very concentrated Diana finishing the sketch she had started in the porch. He loved the way she chewed her tongue — a dance of bright pink between lips and teeth — whenever she'd get to a particularly tricky part she had to focus on.

He wanted desperately to touch her, but was worried he'd break the spell.

Diana dropped her pencil on top of her page and reached an arm up and back to the massive messy bun piled on her head. Her fingers twisted and tugged until she yanked a pen out of the mass.

Bruce's train of thought stopped then. His eyes honed in on the way her hair splayed over her shoulders. He didn't think he would ever grow tired of seeing Diana let her hair loose. Then her lemongrass hit him and his entire train of thought completely derailed.

He groaned and Diana's eyes flew up to him, perplexed. Bruce's gaze was latched onto her with burning intensity. His pupils dilated to the point that his eyes seemed almost pitch black in the dimly lit study. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed loudly.

Every hair she had stood on end.

How could he be so quiet and make her heart pound at the same time? It felt like he was looking deep inside her; she felt exposed.

"What?" She was going for calm confidence, but what came out was a squeak.

"Stand up for a sec?" he asked, as he slid off the table to his feet. Diana acquiesced, wobbling slightly as his chest dragged behind her as he took the seat she had been occupying. Before she could even register what had happened, his arm hooked around her waist pulling her onto his lap. The princess tensed then relaxed, leaning back against his broad chest, resting her head between the crook of his neck and his shoulder.

Bruce nuzzled the sloping curve where her neck became her shoulder with his lips. He buried his nose into her luxuriant black curls and inhaled deeply. Diana could feel chills erupting all over, before his hand smoothed down her thighs, pressing the gooseflesh, which had risen there, flat. She felt her body slacken even more as his hands started inching closer and closer to the one place she really wanted him. Strong hands slid up the inside of her thighs spreading them wider and, with the movement, she could feel his hardness pressing into her. Her breath hitched and her eyes snapped wide open.

"Wait. Stop. Let me go to the bathroom first."

He grumbled, but pulled his arms back till his hands were strangling the armrest of the executive chair they were seated in.

The princess stood up and looked down at him panting. He loved watching the flush in her cheeks, loved the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to control her breathing. "Just give me five minutes and I'll be back, okay?"

He nodded and pointed to the door at the far end of the room next to a tall grandfather clock. He watched her retreating form until she pulled the door shut behind her.

He tucked a hand into his pants and shifted his hard-on so he was more comfortable. Then he leaned on his palms on the edge of the desk to stabilize himself a little before he blew out a slow breath.

Having Diana all to himself in that moment was the stuff of impossible fantasies. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, but tonight her satisfaction was his biggest priority. He tugged open one of the draws at the desk, fished out a condom from the stash he'd buried there a while ago, and stuffed it into his back pocket. How far they would go would depend on her, but Bruce would be ready.

He was standing there waiting as the door swung open. His palm rested against the upper reach of the door frame.

The proximity of his body caught her off guard and her weight shifted onto her back foot. Bruce just stood there, watching her. With his arm as it was, the fabric of his t-shirt pulled tight around his broad chest and shoulders and Diana's mouth went dry.

"Hi," she said, quietly scanning his body discreetly through her thick lashes.

Bruce quickly undressed her with his eyes, his gaze sweeping from her dangerous painted red lips down to her boot covered soles. She'd taken off her sweater in the bathroom and was holding it in the crook of her elbow. His eyes popped back up to her chest. Her black camisole and bra contrasted against her creamy skin and worked in symbiosis to make sure her breasts were pushed up on display.

His hand faltered against the molding surrounding the doorframe. "What are you trying to do to me with this outfit?" he said. "Fuck."

Diana ducked her head, bashful for a split second, but then she pushed the door open wider and leaned under his arm to toss her sweater onto an armchair wedged in the right hand corner of the room. Nerves seized her chest. But she knew there was no going back, this would have to be just another point of no return on whatever road this was that she and Bruce were steering down.

Diana stepped over the threshold. He shut the door behind them and took up one of her hands. Their eyes met.

"I want you." He raised his eyebrows when he said it, his tone a warning, as if he was telling her, 'this is your last chance to run.' Diana almost snorted at the idea. There was no way the shaky messes she now had for legs would let her commit any other act than collapsing straight into his arms.

She raked her lower lip with her teeth, gave him a tiny nod, and received a more confident one in return.

"Good," said Bruce.

In an instant he had closed the space between them, then the slick varnished wood of the bathroom door was flattening her shoulder blades. All she could see was Bruce everywhere, his hand releasing the door to cup her neck while the other slipped dangerously close to the hem of her skirt.

Diana had to draw in a shaking breath. With it she inhaled his scent; clean skin, bath soap and something distinctly masculine that she couldn't place. Both his hands were now caressing her shoulders and her neck. Thumbs came to her temples, palms cradled her face. There was nowhere to look but right at him, inches away.

His belt pressed into her stomach. Grey eyes searched her features with such intensity — as though he was itemizing the best order to devour her. Diana's chest rose and fell with each breath she sucked in and out.

Bruce leaned in, his mouth stopping a whisper short of hers. Floating right there, his breath fell onto her skin, warm yet somehow each hot blast threatened to make her shiver.

He steered away from ruin and pressed his lips just above hers, just to the space between the right of her nose above her upper lip, then he ducked around to place another like it on the left side.

Bruce pulled away just enough so her eyes could focus, and brought a thumb to trace the outline of her lips, before he descended on her again.

"Bruce." She was breathless when he missed her mouth by a millimeter, landing instead on her chin. "What are you doing?"

The boy billionaire grunted and pressed her body against the door again with a force engendered by something between need and frustration.

"Not kissing you on the mouth."

Instead he was at her chin, her neck, her collarbones. A clash of lips, teeth, and tongue. A hand of his reached behind her thigh and grabbed every inch of soft flesh, skirting over the skin of her leg and ass exposed from her silk thigh highs — as it journeyed to the small of her back and hugged her even closer to him.

"Γαμώ!" Diana's eyes rolled back. Everything was too overwhelming, but never enough. Her arms wrapped around Bruce, clutching him to her, while he began lapping and nipping at the hollow of her throat, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of her neck. Bruce's other hand moved to cup her breast, pushing it up high, before his fingers hooked around the straps of her bra and top and dragged them down her shoulder. She felt more kisses fall there… a fever spreading.

She clawed at the back of his neck as his erection ground between them. Her stockinged knee rubbed along his coarse denim jeans, and a rough hand caught it up, dragging it higher as he wedged himself between her legs.

Diana rolled her hips wantonly and her spine curled to push the well of her cleavage into the path of his attention, but Bruce's had other ideas.

He pulled her away from the door and, somehow, — to Diana's amazement — despite the constant onslaught of kisses he showered her with, began to walk them backwards.

After maybe eight steps during which she just barely succeeded in not tripping over their feet, Bruce met an obstacle and stopped. He slid out from in front of her, leaving Diana wobbling to stay upright.

The padded arm of the couch was at her knees and fingers splayed over the small of her back.

"After you."

Two gruff words at her ear were met with instant assent. She bent forward, palms tufting into cushion, firm sofa arm bolstering her hips. Not one single part of her was complaining.

He was behind her where she couldn't see, but there _was_ no need for patience — right away there were things to feel. Her skirt flipped over her butt. Air brushed her cheeks.

"Christ," swore Bruce. His calloused fingers traced her thong — with surprising delicacy — and slipped over her covered mound.

She relaxed forward, accepting his touch, folding her arms under the side of her face atop the cushion. She wasn't sure what he was going to do, but she knew she wanted it.

Until she heard a soft thud behind her on the laminate floor.

Palms cupped her ass. Her heated centre was just that — hot. Too hot under the black cotton underwear. The second her eyes snapped open in realization, his mouth was on her.

Fabric in the way and everything, nothing would keep him back as his nose and chin burrowed. A brief sliver of teeth made her gasp. If she knew better she would have saved it for when he closed his mouth over her lower lips and sucked.

Damp material clung between her legs, and a tongue wriggled it between every crevice. Somewhere behind all of the intense sensations, she felt him slip her ankle boots off, fingers trailing her strong calves and ankles on the way.

By the time she began pushing her hips back, searching for more, he was already peeling her panties down her legs. Strong hands on the backs of her thighs were Diana's only warning.

Bruce's tongue lapped straight up her center, between her lips and smoothing over her clit in one long pass.

"Θεέ μου!" Her moan was muffled in the cushion of the chair.

Bruce, had no idea what the hell she had said. He only knew it motivated him to the point where he was now lapping her up as though he were in a crazed starvation. His tongue was everywhere: circling her sensitive nub, pushing into her. The arm of the couch held her up at just the right position for him to attack her with hot, wet kisses.

Her toes were barely keeping contact with the floor, and then came the fingers. First one, testing what she liked, stroking while she panted. Then a second slipping in tandem with the first, coaxing.

A growl, "You taste so good."

Her face turned sideways, and she was probably drooling onto his couch. Bruce churned the two fingers in and out of her, deliciously slow and forceful.

"Please!"

On and on it went, until her panting had dried out her throat. What felt like a thumb replaced the work of his mouth. Pressure found her little bundle of nerves and rolled, manipulating blood flow. Diana groaned and humped at the padded wood supporting her hips.

"Say my name!"

She moaned. _So fucking wrong, and oh Gods, so good._

He worked her like the simplest of machines. Everything wet, stimulation escaping from too many places at once.

 _"Bruce!"_ She said his name as she began falling apart, shooting stars bursting behind her eyelids. Her body jerking as though her nervous system had a short circuit.

She squealed and shook. Her knees bent, and her feet pointed up at the ceiling. He rode along, following her body with mouth and hands so there was no escape. Every clutch and pulse poured out at last around the boy who'd been turning her world upside down an entire month now.

Diana worked at slowing her breath as she came down. Pins and needles prickled her toes, and Bruce took his fingers back, tongue dipping with slow care for one more victory lap.

When there was no more, the heat of his face withdrew. A part of her still capable of higher thought deliberated how she might appear more dignified if her ass wasn't in the air, but the rest of her was certain her brain was no longer connected to her body. She relaxed her fingers which were digging into the couch.

There were footsteps and Bruce's jeans came into her line of sight, just at the knee. A quiet chuckle drifted down, and fingers combed the mess of her tangled black hair back from her face.

"You don't have to stay like that," he said. Bruce held his hand out to pull her up. She twisted her spine so she could find his face above her. For some reason her brain couldn't connect with her hand to grab his. He shrugged and retracted his arm.

His features were soft, as though he'd happened to find her there sleeping and needed to convince her to move somewhere less awkward, a place that wouldn't leave her so exposed and with the muscles in her legs seizing up.

Bruce smiled. Not a leer. Not a twitch that might be confused for a grimace. Actually smiled — with teeth. Eyes too. Crinkling at the edges. "I'll be right back, 'kay?" And he went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Diana groaned at the pressure against her hips from the arm of the sofa and pushed herself up on her palms. Slid back to sit on her now bare heels. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. The thrum of the bass from the speakers, of a party long forgotten, still shook the house. The left side of her top and bra straps still hung around her upper arm. She righted them, but wasn't sure why she had the sudden urge for modesty, considering her panties could be anywhere.

 _So that's what it's like,_ she thought, wobbly legs trying their darnest to let her stand. _That's what it's like to be with Bruce Wayne._

She collapsed onto the couch, palms facing upwards on her lap. Her inner thighs squeezing each other around a faint buzz. Dazed and floating, she craned her head to take in the room, almost startled that it remained the same when she was now so different.

Diana found herself wearing a sly grin. For a whole entire month he'd been ignoring her and this was what they could have been doing!

Bruce was shirtless when he appeared in the bathroom doorway again. Her mouth went drier than it already was.

The feeling of him through — and under — his t-shirt that night at the lookout was one thing. A humble suggestion, though it had been more than enough to fuel her fantasies for weeks. This was reality. All planes of hard lean muscle — real, visible and so tangible.

Hera, she wanted to touch. But first she'd have to get her brain-hand neurons firing once again.

By the time Bruce walked over to her, she'd collected herself enough to sit up straight, face flushed, and to stare at him with some expression he couldn't read. Bruce paused while he processed what had happened on that same couch only minutes before.

He blinked to shake off the awkward tension and raked a hand through his hair. "You, uh ... you want some water?"

She nodded at him, her eyes not leaving his, and Bruce made an internal fist pump absolutely certain an orgasm induced brain fog was keeping her from using actual words.

He went out of the room in search of a bottle of water, grabbed one from the mini fridge in the gym just down the hall, and brought it to her, arm outstretched. She took it, unscrewed the lid, and gulped down about half before, holding up the bottle to him.

Bruce took it and downed another third of what remained and set it aside on a side table.

She looked vulnerable, sitting there now, watching him like a prey animal, as though he might change tactics and do something horrible. He felt guilty. It was probably her first time doing something like that and he ravaged her like some kind of insensitive asshole.

 _Sit down, you idiot, you're being awkward._

He sank onto the couch beside her. "You okay?"

Her brows came up and she gave him a firm nod, paired with wide eyes. "Ναί… I mean, yes."

Bruce exhaled his relief; she was more than okay. He grabbed her hand, squeezed her fingers, and kissed her knuckles in some strange grandpa-type gesture he hadn't known he was capable of. Diana slipped her fingers from his, and came to touch the side of his face.

There was nothing left in the world for Bruce but those blue eyes. It wasn't awkward or weird for him to admit it... just a fact. They were like two great blue voids; and he was willingly allowing himself to be sucked in.

He leaned first and she followed, offering him her throat. Dear God, did he just want to stop playing around and kiss her already, but they had an agreement; Bruce was not about to break trust with Diana. Not ever, if he could help it.

He tasted her skin again, warm and slightly salty, and she hummed under the work of his mouth. Her first hand had fallen, but the other drifted to the back of his neck, approving, pressing him to continue. But a voice in the back of his head told him to slow things down. He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against her temple, his breath torched her cheek.

"Come to bed with me, Princess?"

She was biting her lip again… unsure. He couldn't tell if he wanted her to break that habit or keep it. He rested a kiss on her cheek and his fingers went up to her jaw to pivot her face in his direction.

His words were a breathless murmur. "We don't have to do anything but sleep. All I've thought about for the last month, is how much I love doing that next to you."

He smiled and she blushed. He wished he could make her do it again.

"What about the party?"

"Fuck the party. Alfred will handle it." Soft lips peppered kisses to her ear. Then a whisper, "I only care about you."

His wish was granted.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Up Next: We pick up where we left off in the past. In the present day where Bruce starts working at Wayne Tech, Diana has a lunch date with him against her better judgement.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and pm's, I'm very sorry this took so long to get to you. It's also unbeta-ed as my wonderful friend SaultnPeppah has been really busy and I decided to get this out earlier (even though it's way too long and a bit rough) for you guys to enjoy.**

 **Disclaimers: I could only wish I owned the justice league. Possibly some sketchily used Greek below.**

* * *

 ** _Nine_**

* * *

 _Cadmus five-and-a-half years ago after the party..._

Someone was screaming. No, someone was groaning. Diana's eyes shot open and she listened into the dark night. It was probably early morning and she shivered underneath the sheets. The groaning started up again and Diana looked over to Bruce in a sleepy stupor. He was curled on his side writhing under the blankets, producing the groans. She gulped and her cheeks warmed, embarrassed. Her mind jumping to all the wrong conclusions about what she'd just woken up to. Shortly after, Bruce keened and let out a…whimper? Something just didn't seem right about it. Diana pressed herself up on all fours and leaned over Bruce to have a look. The first thing she saw was both of Bruce's hands. That caused her immense relief at first, until she noticed they were balled into fists. His knuckles were so white that Diana could almost feel the force he was clenching them with. His face was contorted into a look of agony and his feet started kicking violently against some unknown attacker.

Diana took her bottom lip in her teeth and hoisted herself up and out of bed to get a better look at him. She kneeled at his bedside deliberating what to do. Somewhere in the back of her mind a vague memory gathered telling her you shouldn't wake people from their nightmares. But... how could she let Bruce stay in there, wherever he was? And he was making a lot of noise. Diana looked at him once more and decided to let him ride the dream out. Just as she was about to press herself up and off her knees, Bruce let out another whimper, stopping the dark haired girl in her tracks.

"Please, please don't hurt them," he choked out, turning his head to the ceiling and opening his mouth, only to close it again and grit his teeth. Diana watched as a tear fell from his eye and shone like pure silver in the dim moonlight entering his room. She changed her mind and reached out and placed her hand on Bruce's cheek.

"Hey, Bruce, come on wake up," she said a little loudly, patting her friend's cheek with her palm. Bruce continued to struggle and cry in his dreams and Diana felt tears coming to her own eyes as she watched the broken boy before her. Closing her eyes, Diana brought her hand up, then back down, slapping him hard across the face. She opened her eyes to see Bruce shoot up in bed. What happened next was a blur but suddenly Diana was on the floor, only to be pressed painfully against the hardwood by her neck.

She wanted to cry out in pain but found that she couldn't. She was slowly losing air as the grip on her neck tightened. Bruce's eyes were angered, though he had stopped crying. But he appeared to still be in his dream. Using the last bit of strength she could muster, Diana reached out with her hand and placed it against Bruce's cheek again, softly like she'd done the first time.

His eyes widened as if they'd been opened for the first time and he yanked his hands away, immediately Diana curled her body into a tight little comma in a coughing fit. Her throat was raw and aching but she knew she would recover quickly. She only hoped Bruce wasn't too hurt by all of this. In a flash, he crouched down next to her, reaching out and placing a large hand on the side of her head. Diana smiled at him as she rubbed her throat. "You were having a nightmare. I…I thought it best to wake you," she croaked. She smiled again and Bruce leaned forward, embracing her tightly. Diana quickly returned the hug, pressing herself into his arms.

They held each other for a long time on the floor — neither of them knew just how long, before he finally pulled away and sat up. His eyes were troubled and he sniffed, pressing up to recline against the bed. He extended his hand to stroke her cheek. "I'm sorry," he said. She could hear the way his heavy heart was clogging up his words.

"You didn't know what you were doing. Don't worry about it."

"But I hurt you. Don't you see it's just like I told you? Being around me will only cause you pain." Bruce dropped his head but it was picked up after a moment, as Diana propped herself up on one elbow and placed her other hand under his chin.

"You didn't hurt me. You were scared and I'm fine. Please don't be down on yourself. What hurts me is seeing you so sad."

Bruce nodded as Diana moved next to him and rested her head on his shoulder as they lay against the upholstered bed frame. After awhile Bruce put his head on Diana's and she started humming some tune he didn't recognize. He felt sick, he could've killed her, she saw him at his worst and yet she was here… singing. His lips hid a kiss in her curls. He couldn't believe he did it — such an act of tenderness — but couldn't find it in himself to regret it either. Her voice was so pleasant and gentle and her lemongrass was washing over him and before he knew it he was almost finding some inner peace with her right there at his side.

 _It could only be her…_

Diana pulled back and made a sound that seemed half-frustrated-sigh, half-disgusted-groan and certainly not at all princess-like.

"What is it?" Bruce asked pulling away so he could see her better.

"Your laws are very ineffective in Man's World. To think someone could have done what _he_ did to your parent's and walked off and disappeared. Your leaders and patrol officers are a joke."

"It's not that simple, Princess. The Gotham City PD did everything they could to catch my parent's murderer. And besides — "

"Besides what, Bruce? They're dead and now you have to spend your life frightened and alone." Her eyes bore into his and he could feel the anger radiating off of her. "Nothing like that could have ever happened in Themyscira. Mother — our queen and sworn protector — would have made sure scum like him would have come to regret ever being born. When we have a bad egg we throw it out, we dont leave it there to explode."

"Yeah you throw it out all right, just pass your problems onto the rest of the world. What do you think happens to your exiled? You think they just evaporate into thin air? If anything your people add to the problem in our, so called, _Man's World_. You all hide on your island… sitting pretty up in your palaces and temples, praying to your goddesses, throwing parties and drinking wine while the rest of the world is falling to shambles all around you. A country of cowards... I would rather die than admit I came from somewhere like that."

He was so caught up in verbalising his hurricane of thoughts he hadn't even realised it had gotten so eerily quiet that you could hear even a lone leaf drop from the birch outside his window.

"Is that what you really think of us? Of me?" She looked up at him from his chest — a stalemate between their blue and grey gazes. Bruce's face softened then hardened again in a heartbeat, almost as if she'd imagined the momentary show of emotion.

Why did he always look at her like that? Like he wanted to say something but he shut himself down instead. His eyes were dark with something she would never understand and his jaw clenched and released. Eventually he said, "No, that's not what I think."

"Bruce," It was delicate caution. Someone approaching an animal that might bite. She took a deep breath. "You said you wouldn't lie to me. Not on purpose."

He paused. He did promise, and for that he was now being tortured.

He sighed, "I was scared, okay? And I just told you all that dumb shit because my nerves are on edge. But I don't think you're a coward, alright? Now just drop it. Please."

"I just wish I could help take away your pain, that's all I was trying to say. I'm sorry. We can talk about your dream instead."

His jaw set.

"Mother says, 'fear of talking about a thing suggests you're too weak to deal with the emotion behind it.' We should talk about it. You can confront it and get it off your chest."

His voice was dangerously low. "Drop it."

"It just seems logical to talk, is all."

"Why can't we just enjoy now? Why does before matter?" His hand was shaking so hard he had to clench his fist to stop it. "You girls and your emotions, you're all the same. Let it go, Diana. I don't know why you care so much, we're not a— "

"We're not a couple? And because of that I can't be a friend? Right." She nodded. "I get it." Her words were clipped and she pressed herself up and off him until she was upright.

"Don't go, Diana. Please. I'm sorry." He tried to reach for her, but she slipped through his fingers.

"Let's not start this game. It's late and I'm tired."

He would later come to understand which game she meant. The one where she pushed and he pulled himself back, with the same stubborn intensity so nothing could ever be resolved. He didn't want it to be like this, but he didn't know how to make it stop.

Bruce stood up and followed her to the ottoman where she'd thrown her clothing before they went to bed. He placed a hand on the cool, bare skin of her shoulder. "Stay."

"No." She rolled her shoulder roughly so his hand fell off. "I'm not in the mood. I understand there's only one thing you want me here for and it's not my conversation skills. With that in mind, I'm afraid I won't be of use to you anymore tonight."

He felt like shit, he hated himself for pushing her away. Hated how he always messed things up so soon.

"Princess?" His slid his hands into the pockets of his pajama bottoms and his chiseled features softened.

"What Bruce?" His name was an exasperated sound, then she turned around — all furious beauty — curls whipping through the air. "What now?"

"Will I get to see you again?"

She gave him the look she always did when he said or did something she wasn't particularly impressed by. A sneer that turned her upper lip out so viciously that he could feel the disgust it was conveying, deep in his soul.

She was all sunshine and clear skies, to see her face like that… it felt like his heart was being pulled apart. He did that… he ruined her.

"We go to the same school."

He frowned and said the most neutral words yet somehow they came out as a plea, "You know what I mean, Diana."

"To do something other than talking?" She shrugged, indifferent. Something hurt in his throat. After she slipped her feet into her boots she said, "You better make it worth my time."

xXxXx

 _Gotham City now…_

 _Value Realization Leader_

Diana scoffed at the metal plaque glaring at her as she walked passed it in the hallway on the way to the gym, she and Steve ran. It was always a bit jarring to her how their gym had literally been planted in the middle of an office floor, but in the month's time since she'd been working at Wayne Tech, Diana had quickly learnt nothing ran normally in this building.

Case in point: the plaque adorning the door to Bruce's office.

Diana rolled her eyes. What did that even mean, _Value Realization Leader_? She and Steve had spent all of Monday and Tuesday talking about how what it actually signified was nepotism. Bruce didn't actually have the credentials to work there in any of the existing job positions, so they created the most useless job position just so he could have an excuse to see her everyday.

She spent this Wednesday morning going over Steve's bookkeeping, as she usually did since she got into work so early. After she was certain his numbers added up — it was not unusual for Steve to do the accounts in a sleepy haze and make minor errors — she turned her attention to cleaning and setting up the six yoga mats needed for her clients in the first class she taught each day.

Seven-thirty classes where almost as annoying to her as spotting Bruce around the building throughout the day. Not because she disliked her job, in fact it was just the opposite — one of her clients was making her job unbearable. Hugo Strange was always the first one to enter the studio and the last to leave every morning. He had made it his life's goal since she'd been working there, to get Diana to say yes to a date with him. As if she could ever date a grown man with questionable oral hygiene, or one who just two weeks prior had been making fun of her with Cobblepot in the open where anyone could hear.

Like clockwork, at seven am, she could feel him standing in the doorway despite facing away from him. She painted on a fake smile and finished a complete cycle of breath before she started turning around to face him, but she had to stop halfway because her stomach dropped with the realization that it was Bruce standing there all along. She watched him clear the entryway and step into the room, vacillating between two or three different ways she might ask him to leave. When he stopped in front of her, his clean, musky scent drifted towards Diana and her traitorous pulse fluttered. She wanted to slap herself… _ridiculous_.

He paused leaving a good two feet of space between them and wordlessly reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper holding it out to her. Bruce's brows raised in surprise when she actually took it, then he nodded politely, veered right and headed back out of the studio, leaving a very puzzled Diana standing there gaping.

xXxXx

When she got to the door on Friday the plaque was still taunting her. Diana arranged the loose tendrils framing her face and smoothed trembling fingers down her braid, in complete denial of the fact that she was doing it to make sure she looked good when he saw her.

"Come in," he called when she knocked. Diana's heart flew up and lodged itself in her throat at the sound of his voice.

His back was turned when she entered the office. The room looked like every other space Bruce occupied and claimed as his own; utterly clean and pedantically organised. He had his hands in his pants pockets, staring out the window that took up all of the southern wall. The view of the Gotham skyline was pretty spectacular. She could see why they had decided to move the cubicles out and make this his office.

Diana closed the door behind her, almost cowering against the hard surface, painfully aware there was no escape. He turned around, opening his mouth then closing it again. His eyes looked her up and down with a lazy sort of arrogance. A pleased, mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

"You wanted to see me, Bruce?" she whispered.

Bruce noticed how time had taken a toll on her accent. Her words weren't as flat or broad as they used to be. But she still said the 'r' in his name with the gentle undulation of her tongue when she spoke it softly. He desperately wanted to hear her to say it more.

"Where's your coat are you coming to lunch dressed like that?" His eyes passed up and down her body taking in her violet racerback tank top and black yoga pants.

She looked puzzled. "It's in my yoga studio. Why?"

"I have meetings all day. This is my lunch hour. I thought we would discuss my proposition over lunch."

Diana made a face. Bruce wanted to smooth it out. He never wanted anything to bother her. Ever. Except maybe him, right now, because what he was planning was for both their sakes.

Her expression hardened when their eyes met. He'd made no mention of lunch in his note, she was sure of it, she could recite it by heart and, though she would never admit to it, had it carefully tucked away in the drawer of her nightstand. But now he was insinuating himself into a lunch date?

A feeling of annoyance flamed over her, but she knew better than to give it voice. She needed her job and Bruce could throw her out on her ass with a flick of his wrist if he so chose. She had bills to pay and a child to feed, and so she was prepared to play the part of the good little yoga teacher until her and Steve's business grew to the point where she could tell Bruce and Hugo and all the other assholes of the world to go fuck themselves. Repeatedly.

"You never said anything about lunch. Why can't we dine at the cafeteria here or the McDonald's across the street?"

His top lip curled upwards as if some disgusting odour was suddenly permeating his office. "I can't remember the last time I ate McDonald's."

Diana could believe it, if the hard sculpted lines of his body were anything to go by. Bruce took care of himself, like she did. It was something they bonded over as teens. Both following rigid healthy diets, eating salads and drinking kombucha while Lois and Clark scuffed down French fries and nachos next to them.

"Besides, Diana, if I remember correctly you are a vegetarian have a particularly expensive taste. McDonald's ticks off none of those boxes." He looked at her meaningfully.

Diana huffed.

Bruce saw her irritation and gestured to the telephone on his desk. "I can order in, if you'd prefer. I was going to suggest we take a cab to this new place I heard about in Burnley, but if that makes you uncomfortable …"

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable." Diana spoke too quickly and her tone protested too much.

He smirked. She'd fallen for it hook line and sinker; Bruce knew her pride wouldn't allow her to back down. In fact, he had been counting on it. "Good. Then grab your coat while I look for my umbrella. It's raining. Again."

 _Damned grin_ , she thought as she turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall, leaving Bruce to search his office.

A few minutes later, she returned clad in a pair of dark-washed skinny jeans, a sweater, high heels and a red trench coat with the lapels turned up.

When he made no move to acknowledge her, she tried to make small talk. "So you went to Yale after all?"

"Yes." Bruce picked up a file from his desk and slipped it into his laptop bag.

His confirmation hurt her. Another bullet point on the long list of reasons why she was absolutely certain she'd never meant anything to Bruce Wayne. He'd sworn to her right before they'd had sex their last night at school that there was nothing he wanted more than for them to attend GCU together in the fall. As usual she kept up her end of the bargain by sending in a late application, attending and juggling a job and raising her son while Bruce did whatever the hell he wanted.

Diana took a closer look at the diplomas and awards hanging on the north wall of his office.

"You're a Phi Beta Kappa?"

"That's right."

She was suitably impressed. "Me, too. What was your major?"

She was feeling petty and hoped it was something easy – like knitting.

"I did dual degrees in Criminology and…" He hesitated, "Philosophy."

She turned and stared at him

Bruce a philosophy major? He didn't _look_ like any philosophy major she'd ever seen. Even as a teen he didn't fit the description: nerdy argumentative types who read things like comics and Aristotle's Rhetoric.

Bruce was handsome, if one happened to be attracted to tall, broad men whose confidence bordered on arrogance (things she was trying to tell herself she did not find beguiling). But these attributes didn't exactly fit a student of philosophy.

"I thought you were on your school's MMA team." It escaped her mouth before her brain could reel it in and she only hoped it wouldn't be too obvious she had briefly skimmed his Wikipedia page.

He frowned. "Can't MMA fighters study philosophy? What was your major?" He allowed his eyes to wander over her red raincoat in silent appraisal. "Fashion?"

"I have an honors degree in Classics with a concentration in ancient mediterranean culture," she snapped. "From GCU."

He stared at her and held off as long as he could before smirking. "There's no need to get so defensive Diana. I was one who who pushed for you to be selected to work here. Your C.V. was impressive, as were the client reviews on your website and the progress photos you've shared on social media. Let's go to lunch. After you."

He picked up his bag and gestured to her to enter the hallway before locking the door behind them.

Diana felt tears stinging her eyes from the fury she was trying to hold in. She'd spent all these years working so hard for something she wanted more than anything, only to find out she'd gotten the job handed to her in some last ditch effort by her ex — whatever-the-heck Bruce was — trying to get close to her again so he could sleep with her.

Although she was tearing Bruce to shreds in her mind, Diana was silent in the hallway, silent in the elevator and silent during the walk out of the lobby into the torrential rain. Bruce tried to start up a conversation with her along the way but one withering stare told him not to push his luck. Thereafter, his expression morphed into a scowl.

 _And for some reason people always say I'm difficult to engage in conversation._

When Bruce started undoing the flimsy strap of his umbrella and motioned for her to step closer she spurned him. He paused at the doorway and his face fell, "You hate me that much? That you'd rather walk through the rain getting soaked instead of just sharing an umbrella with me?"

Put that way it did sound rather ludicrous and pathetic, but Diana could only think about how she was on the verge of completely losing it and she would not waste her breath fighting or complying with Bruce Wayne anymore. She would kill him with apathy. He wasn't worth her pride. Even if said pride would probably only reward her with pneumonia.

Bruce started wrestling open the umbrella in a fit of anger, mumbling curses under his breath. He pushed a little too enthusiastically and a strong wind paired with his overzealous jimmying of the mechanism, caused the umbrella to flip inside-out and break with a surprisingly loud and definitive snap considering the torrential rain was drowning out most of the sounds around them.

Bruce stood up tall, eyes pressed shut and his head fell backwards. Diana could tell he was trying not to lose it. Hera, how many times had she seen him do that during their arguments when they were younger? Her eyes found the pavement; she felt bad for overreacting. After he took a few heaving breaths, Bruce walked out into the rain to the garbage can sitting at the edge of the sidewalk, and dumped the umbrella into it. When he walked back under the awning just in front of the lobby his hair had slicked down on his head and his cheeks and nose had gone pink with the cold. He looked down at her and their eyes met, "There you go. Happy?"

To see him like that… she wanted to say no. That she'd regretted it. That she knew she was being difficult and she didn't really mean it. But he'd already signalled a cab and started jogging towards it, leaving her to follow her in silence, her patent stilettos clicking on the wet pavement.

xXxXx

The 'new place in Burnley' turned out to be a restaurant called Naoussa. The moment Diana's feet crossed the threshold into the entryway it felt almost as though she'd been transported back in time. A wave of sensory memory crashed over her. Scents of Themyscira, the salt of its beaches. The aroma of the palace kitchens… the spice market. She shook her head almost as though it would bring her back to the present, her eyes were continuously scanning her surroundings.

The kitchen area was open and easily visible from the entrance of the restaurant. She could see and hear the cooks racing back and forth getting orders together, barking aggressively in her beloved Greek and the high-pitched clanking of metal pots and spoons as they worked. Despite the raucous noise, the sounds had an almost sedative effect on her. This was the closest she could get to home.

She stayed in a trance-like state all while they were being seated and ordering their starters.

"Now do you understand why I had to bring you here?" Bruce simpered and his tone held an air of cockiness. Diana's mood soured again.

"You could have just spoken to me at work instead of dragging me to some restaurant in a transparent attempt at getting me alone," Diana barked, but her tone was vulnerable, like a wolf caught in a snare.

 _So much for apathy._

Bruce peered over at her, and then he clasped his large hands together and pressed them down on top of the table, leaning forward slightly.

"I'm sure this will come as a surprise, Diana, given the behaviour of some of the men in our office, but not all of us are interested in finding out what you have under your clothes." He leaned back and smirked. "Some of us are interested in finding out what you have inside your head and in using your expertise."

It took a moment for his words to be comprehensible to Diana's ears, simply because she couldn't believe what she was hearing. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Ever. And anyway, she wasn't entirely sure she believed him, considering Bruce had dedicated the entire seventeenth year of his life to finding out exactly what she had under her clothes.

But his words got her thinking as she sat there chewing the inside of her lip and twirling the rain soaked curl at the end of her braid around her finger. Maybe things had changed for him and he just wasn't as attracted to her anymore. Since he'd been back, Bruce had only ever tried to be friendly, perhaps all he really wanted was atonement. Her movements froze as a thought formed in her mind. Maybe he'd seen her with Hugo so many times this week and was backing off because he thought something was happening between them.

"I didn't lead Hugo on." She blurted. His brow knitted in confusion. Diana didn't know why, but she continued spewing unnecessary information at Bruce. "I smile at him during yoga and now he thinks he's special. But… I'm friendly to everyone."

Bruce nodded knowingly. He remembered those carefree smiles of hers given away so freely and for little-to-no reason. How many of those smiles had caused him pain when they were younger?

He always felt like Diana had a way of _really_ looking at him when she smiled. Like if whatever words or actions of his that engendered the smile were so amazing to her, she just had to go out of her way to create a radiant display of joy, unique and perfect just for him. Then seconds later she'd turn around and give that same smile — _his_ smile — to Oliver Queen, or Lex Luthor or even Clark. She'd always return Bruce's jealousy or apprehension at her actions with innocent oblivion. A nonchalant, dismissive wave and those famous last words of hers, "I'm friendly to everyone."

He was too young and insecure back then to believe her. But it had almost been six years since he had been with her. Six years of him replaying and picking apart every single moment shared between them with incredible detail — in part due to his obsession, but mostly thanks to his eidetic memory. He could see now how wrong it was for him to hold her to his standards of "normal" when she was the princess of an entirely different country with entirely different behavioral norms from his. And especially because he was always the one who put up walls and pushed her away.

If she ever took him back, there would be no need for her to have to waste her breath anymore explaining things, because he trusted her. She was incapable of breaking his trust.

A young waiter came up and set their appetisers in front of them unobtrusively.

"You're not friendly to me," said Bruce distractedly, eyes scanning the assortment of dishes in front of him.

Diana's full lips pursed. "Because you don't deserve it."

He scoffed playfully and winked at her, feeling relief when he saw her posture relax ever so slightly. "You promised to play nice, last time we saw each other. Give me a chance. Please."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Did I promise? Fine," she agreed, sticking a skewer into an olive. A cruel smile lit up her eyes which were looking up at him through thick lashes. "There's just one problem. I remember playing with you, Bruce, it was never just _nice_." Red lips wrapped around the olive before she sucked it into her mouth and Bruce's heart started hammering in his chest.

Her eyes raked over him so hard he could feel them burning pathways into his chest, then the blue orbs halted and perched on his forearm, exposed by his rolled up shirt sleeve. A feminine hand approached his. Somewhat hesitant, yet determined to reach its destination. Skin landed on skin. Her fingers just barely traced the soft blue ridge formed by a vein which was probably now wasting its time carrying blood back to his heart, because Bruce knew with absolute certainty that the organ had given out.

He yanked at his tie loosening it, suddenly aware he couldn't breath, as the heat from her fingertips clung to his skin. Diana caught herself momentarily with a jolt and her hand bolted back to her lap much like Jason whenever she caught him touching something she'd forbidden him to.

He cleared his throat navigating the topic back to calmer waters. "Give Hugo some time. He'll soon get the picture. He's a smart guy. He'll figure out he's wrong and make the right decision to leave you alone. If not, report him to HR."

"So you think human beings, like Hugo, are rational, Bruce?"

"Generally speaking, yes. But as Aristotle pointed out, not all of us use this trait all of the time."

She snorted. "No kidding." She peered over at him curiously, she felt like she was seeing him with new eyes. He was always so empirical and calculating when she knew him, even now he appeared that way. It's just seemed strange he'd choose something as subjective and theoretical as philosophy.

They were silent for a while eating their appetizers. Bruce watched every twitch Diana made and every time she closed her eyes in delight at the assault of flavors hitting her tongue. When she looked across at him and caught him staring, he didn't back down, instead hitting her full blast with one of those rare but breathtaking smiles of his. Their gazes met and lingered for a moment before she dropped her eyes to the plate of Favokeftedes, vegetable fritters, in the space between them. Bruce watched as a faint blush spread over her perfect cheekbones.

"What kind of philosophy did you study?" she asked, when she hazarded lifting her eyes towards him once more.

"Ancient Greek."

"But… that means you have to be able to read Greek." said Diana, the barest hint of a proud smile begging to come out and play.

"Only _ancient_ Greek. And just the basics." He was selling himself short. Steve's mom, Barbara, taught undergraduate courses in Greek philosophy at GCU. They were two different universities, but Diana knew it was common for every student to have intensive language modules in these programs.

By the time the waiter brought out their main courses, a comfortable silence had fallen between them. At least three times during their meal Diana made to say something to Bruce only to stop herself before anything more than the swish of a sigh could come out. He hated how she held herself back. God… didn't she know there was nothing she could say that he wouldn't want to listen to? Not a single thing.

Her hand hovered over the bowl of tzatziki, about to grab a dollop of the creamy spread when his fingers caught her wrist. Her gaze zipped to his like a magnet. Bruce watched her brow wrinkle with curiosity.

"Will you let me explain what I said thatday?"

Diana's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. After a moment she exhaled and turned her hand in his grasp, palm side up, coaxing shudders out of his body as she caressed the underside of his forearm with the soft pads of her fingertips. Her actions were meant to wordlessly reassure him, he knew. But it was so unexpected that he froze and let their hands drop to the table. Diana's fingers stilled but she didn't try to pull herself out of his grip. "Look, its like you told me once, 'Why does before matter?'"

"Does that mean you forgive me?"

"I… can't. At least… not yet." She swore under her breath in Greek, mad at herself for what she was saying. "But I'm willing to try to avoid thinking about our last night together and what you said when I came to you for help in Metropolis." She knew she had to let go of her anger towards Bruce.

 _Jason doesn't deserve to pay for my shame._

His face crumpled and his eyes glazed over as he looked away from her. Diana slipped her arm from his grip. Of course she wanted to forget the night they'd made love. He hurt her when he left. He never should have left her alone like he did, he knew that now. But how did she think he felt when he came back, all excited to tell her he was finally ready for them to be together — just like she had always wanted — only to find her in a guest bedroom of his house barely clothed sleeping next to Clark?

 _She doesn't think anything, because she doesn't know you saw._

There was nothing he regretted more in his life than that night. He'd not only sealed his fate with Diana then, but he'd almost lost his best friend in the process. Clark could've died… but by some divine intervention — no thanks to Bruce — he'd made it. Even when Clark had woken up from his coma five weeks later, Bruce still didn't have all the answers he was seeking. He assured Bruce they hadn't had sex or anything like that, but Clark had made a promise to Diana to never tell Bruce what she had told him that night. Since it was the last day of the school year, she had gone back to the island completely unaware of how she'd left Bruce and her friends broken in Metropolis.

Bruce learned, during Clark's stint in the hospital, that the reason he loved Clark most was also the reason he would come to resent him most; Clark Kent was impeccable to his word. He would never divulge Diana's secret despite Bruce's relentless badgering.

When Diana had left the island to find Bruce three months later in Metropolis. Clark was still bedridden, ghostly pale, with eyes so dark he seemed a shadow of his former self. Bruce knew he'd already destroyed his two best friends, Lois and Clark, with his stupidity. The least he could do was let Diana go before the pain he would inevitably cause her would become irreversible as what he'd done to Clark.

He had pushed her away to put an end to the never ending tug of war they had. But he could see now how ending things with her was far worse than just sticking things out and finding a way to make them work.

"I only want us to have a fresh start. Give each other a fair chance as people. And… who knows maybe one day we could become friends again."

"You said we weren't ever friends, Bruce."

His face fell. "I thought we agreed on you forgetting what I said in Metropolis."

"I know. I'm sorry. " She slid the bowl of olives nearer to him repentantly. The thing is, this was always the problem with her and Bruce. He constantly wanted her to forgive and forget his transgressions, yet he was always lurking like a loaded gun, just waiting behind her to fire blame and accusations for things she hadn't even done; boring haggard, excruciating holes into her soul with the bullets of his insecurity.

Diana remembered the look on his face when he would say those words — always some variation of, "let's just forget this ever happened." How he'd take her into his arms right after he said them, how those words always added new cracks to her already breaking heart because she knew in those moments that _he_ would be capable of forgetting whatever the _it_ was and _she_ couldn't, because Bruce would never love her like she did him.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when he asked her to recommend him something for dessert when the waiter returned. Just one thing? She chuckled at the absurdity. It wasn't even possible. She told the waiter to bring them two servings each of baklava, kataifi and loukoumades. Bruce's eyes widened and he was about to open his mouth to protest, but Diana silenced him with a look and made two things clear. Firstly, there was no way he could bring her to an authentic Greek restaurant and expect her to choose just one dessert. Secondly, they needed two servings of each because she would castrate him if he so much as hoped she would share even one single bite with him.

Pastries had always held a special place in her heart. When she was a little girl, her mother would often chase all of the staff out of the palace kitchen so she and her daughter — and occasionally her aunt Antiope— could bake. How many hours of her childhood were spent running her tiny fingers through the flour on the table? Somehow she'd always wind up fully covered in the white stuff even though was only meant to be watching. She smiled sadly overcome with nostalgia. Jason did the same with her now whenever they'd bake a cake or cookies.

 _Jason_.

Thinking about him in front of Bruce made her wrought with guilt. Jason, her sun and stars. Bruce, the man who didn't know he was a father. How could she tell Bruce about Jason though? If there was one thing she had learnt about Bruce, from when they were teenagers, it was that he always either ran away or shut himself off when things got too hard for him. Children needed stability more than anything, those habits of Bruce's didn't exactly set him up to be father of the year.

Bruce's mood sombered as he watched Diana's face contort conflictingly. He wanted to draw her out of her head and back to the present with him.

"So, we've almost finished our lunch and I haven't even discussed my proposition with you. Didn't my note make you curious?" Her eyes spread wide. Diana sat up straight, turning her full attention to Bruce and inviting him to speak with a gentle nod.

He wanted to her to train him, he'd said while they were still waiting on dessert. Diana of course protested, with lingering glances on the twin bulges of his biceps, and told Bruce that Steve was the person he needed if he wanted to maintain or improve his physique. As it turned out, he wasn't interested in either. He was looking for some way of training his strength and flexibility, which as he saw it could only be yoga. Acroyoga, to be specific.

She objected vehemently punctuating her protests with well placed emphatic stabs on the surface of their dining table to drive her point home. Bruce, of course, expected no less of Diana and as such had come prepared with perhaps the greatest reward to the past month spent stalking her on social media; an alibi.

He interlaced his fingers together on the tabletop once again and spoke calmly. "I saw it on your Instagram. You do it with this blonde woman and with the little kids."

Diana shifted imperceptibly at the mention of kids. She couldn't help the way her heart fell into the pit of her stomach even though she knew she was always discreet enough to protect Jason's face. Not even just for Bruce, but people in general. Her social media presence was a part of her job, her son didn't need to be involved in it anymore than other kids were in their parents' work. If Bruce noticed her fidgeting he didn't think anything of it.

Diana's features pressed flat as she started scanning her memories racking her brains to remember who the woman he had seen could possibly be. She only ever did acroyoga with Jessie and Jason, maybe an occasional friend of theirs if it was her turn to host a playdate or sleepover. But a blonde woman...

"Christina? Hera, Bruce how far back did you scroll? I haven't posted with Christina in years."

His eyes slammed shut. Bruce cringed so hard he could feel it in the depths of his soul. "Look I missed you alright. I wanted to see what you've been doing since we've been apart." His right hand had started trembling and he quickly retracted it from the tabletop and slipped into his pocket, his fingers searching for his pearl clutching it in his palm. "You still train with Christina?"

"No. Those days are done."

"Why?"

"Because we broke up."

He swallowed and his fingers pressed hard onto the white gemstone he always used to relieve his nervous energy. _So she had dated her?_

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. So this was where Jason had gotten his overbearing curiosity from.

"Because I have other more important priorities in my life and I couldn't give her what she needed."

"What priorities?"

"Who are you the GCPD's number one detective?"

He chuckled once and nodded sagely already connecting the obscure dots in his mind. "You mean you broke up because of Steve."

She balked. "For the love of the Gods, after all these years you're still making assumptions about me and guys? You're always wrong, our entire time at school is enough historical evidence for this."

He made to start apologising and telling her she was correct and he had no right to insinuate anything between them, but the waiter had chosen just then to drop their desserts off.

Bruce's comment was quickly forgotten as Diana eyed the plate of loukoumades ravenously wasting no time in pinching one of the small, fried, dough balls between her fingers and biting into it. The thick layer of honey topping the confection dribbled onto her fingers and lips.

Diana moaned as she chewed and swallowed a loukoumad. A husky, sighing sound released from the back of her throat and all male eyes from neighboring tables turned and stared at her.

"You know this is just a business lunch, right?" His lips curled up at the corners. "Try to behave. There's decent people all around."

Diana sat back in her seat and kept eye contact with him as she sucked her thumb clean. Her smirk was sexy and suddenly his pants were way the fuck too tight. "Well, _you_ aren't decentpeople now, are you?"

She turned her attention to the dish of baklava in front of her. Her mouth fell open, a slip of tongue came out to wet her lips, and Bruce was certain it would be only a matter of time before he passed out from cerebral blood loss.

How could something as banal as watching Diana eat be one of the most erotic experiences of his life? Then again, who was he kidding? It wasn't just her eating, anything Diana did was erotic.

After she had finished her dessert and was drinking Greek coffee, Diana ventured to ask Bruce the one question she'd promised herself she wouldn't.

"So uh... Was there anyone special. Out of the many?"

"Yeah… there was this one girl."

She nodded mournfully, tracing the rim of her porcelain coffee cup with a finger. Of course he'd had someone special. It was Diana who was absolutely unspecial to him in every way shape and form. "Why'd you let her go?"

"I didn't." He exhaled loudly interrupting himself. "She was a kleptomaniac. Ironically she stole my heart for a bit when she left too." He chuckled sadly as he cut into his piece of baklava with the blunt edge of his fork.

Diana's icy expression froze in place and she brought them back to the topic at hand. "Look, you're technically my boss and you could fire me whenever you feel like it, so I have no choice but train with you. But it has to be on my terms. I get to the studio at six every morning. Be there waiting on the couch out front. If you're late, I won't practice with you. Fine?"

"You really think I would fire you? You think I'd used my position like that? Is that how little you think of me?"

She laughed but it was mirthless. "Trust me Bruce, you don't want to know exactly how little I think of you." A blade going through his chest could not have hurt more. "Be at the studio at six on Monday, we'll discuss things further from there." Diana waved her hand and motioned to the waiter for the cheque then she turned back to her coffee while the two of them waited for their server in somewhat uncomfortable silence.

When it came time to pay the bill, Bruce immediately handed cash to their young server, waving aside Diana's attempts to pay.

"This is on the tech division," he explained. "I'm sure the other heads of department will take you to lunch sometime over the course of the year, to make sure everything is running smoothly. We've just gotten ours out of the way early."

During the awkward cab ride back to Wayne Tech, during which Bruce looked on, worried Diana would scratch her skin off in agitation, he tried to give her a wide berth worried that maybe he'd been coming on to her too strongly. The moment the cab hit the curb in front of their building Diana flew out of the vehicle like a bat out of hell. She walked as fast as she could in a vain effort to lose him, but Bruce's long strides easily overtook hers.

He was slowly realizing that the princess he'd known as a boy was probably gone for good. This Diana Prince puzzled him. He had seen her go from angry to contrite to flirty and then to flinty cold, all in the space of an hour and a half. She fascinated him and he wondered what it would take to convince her to give up all her secrets.

He was lost in his thoughts so they walked to the elevators without conversation. But before they arrived at the tenth floor, he turned to her.

"Are you and Ivy still friendly?"

"Yes."

"Then you should know that in addition to being a counselor, she's also the harassment officer. If you ever need to have a conversation about Hugo, you can always speak to her."

Diana's eyes remained impassive, but Bruce saw a muscle shift in her jaw. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Diana." He wanted more than anything to kiss her on the cheek, instead he nodded his head once at her. "Enjoy your weekend."

Diana watched his retreating form with all kinds of feelings boiling to the surface, but she quickly suppressed them. When it came to apathy towards Bruce Wayne, she was determined to become very good.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry if Diana is a bit all over the place in this chapter, I hope it came across as confliction. She'll be her nice self soon. Let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks so much for reading. I am so sorry that this took so long. I bruised my tailbone and I can't be in a sitting position for very long. I'm also drugged up on painkillers. Writing has been slow because between the pain and the meds I am not inspired at all. I'm afraid the next chapter will be late as well. I am very sorry but it can't be helped. I don't want to rush and force myself and put out a chapter that I will regret. The good news is that all the spearate moving parts of the story with start converging within the next three chapters, so look out for that.**

 **Up Next: Short flashback with Clark and Bruce talking about his argument with Diana.**

 **In the present Diana and Bruce start training together, we all know what's going to happen little by little :D.**

 **Jason being cute :) (but only if the chapter is not too long when we get to him).**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Well, I'm not sure where to even start. I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long to get up. I'm updating it three days shy of an entire year later. I was partly blocked about how to continue, but mostly it was laziness. I'm sorry, please forgive me. I'm pretty sure that none of the things I promised would happen in this chapter have actually happened, I had to rework things to make sure the story got to where it needed to be.**

 **Disclaimers: I'm only borrowing these characters, I do not own them.**

* * *

 _ **Ten**_

* * *

 _Cadmus five-and-a-half years ago..._

He spotted her before he'd have liked to admit.

This was a trend with Diana, he'd realised; he'd force his brain to work twenty-four seven to stop thinking about her while his body drove to her on auto pilot. He counted it as a personal triumph that his eyes didn't linger. It didn't necessarily have to be her, lots of girls had long dark hair, but Bruce wanted to keep score.

He paused at the breakfast buffet deliberating whether or not sitting in the hall to eat was even worth him constantly wanting to walk over to the eleventh grade table she sat at, or spending his entire breakfast hour internally praying that she'd just give him a moment. A wave. He'd have probably even settled for a nod in his general direction. The throbbing pulse in his right eye warned him that he'd be better off ditching breakfast altogether and sneaking off into the library where he could bury himself in his studies and forget everything.

"Where the hell were you, dude? I was up all night worried about you." Clark sauntered over to where Bruce stood, grabbing two of the stacked white trays on the way, and handed one to his roommate.

Bruce tried not to look too peeved as he took it. He shifted towards Clark and nodded his thanks. It seemed Clark had decided suffering in oppressive sunlight streaming in through the glass walls of the dining hall was his fate.

"In the infirmary," Bruce said, looking up at Clark as they started walking along the serving tables grabbing fruit and yogurt and other necessities as they went.

To Clark's credit, Bruce noted the way the quarterback cut his wince short before asking, "What in God's name happened to your eye?" An elephant in the room could not steal the attention from the offending organ, his assailant had made sure of that. What with the angry red globe protruding around his eye socket so loud and proud that his eye was almost swollen shut. Her knuckles had even added their own embellishing flair in the form of two cuts just on top of his brow bone. Even Bruce had been unable to stop himself swearing out loud when the school nurse had given him a hand mirror to inspect the eyesore the night before.

Clark held his hand up to inspect the wound. Bruce grimaced in advance. He knew his roommate wouldn't hurt him, especially not intentionally, but a private school education and a well pressed suit and tie could not erase the calluses that a lifetime of farm work had left on Clark's fingers.

"I had a date," was Bruce's gruff reply as he tried and failed to avoid Clark's fingers.

Clark balked. "With Vicki?" he asked, nodding to the food lady as she smiled and pointed to a stack of pancakes that she'd set aside just for him. Everybody loved Clark, even middle aged cooks, apparently. Bruce just followed accepting whatever they put in his tray.

"Diana. We sparred."

"I take it she won?" It wasn't a true question, not really. Clark knew his friend well enough to temper questions about things that'd deflate the boy billionaire's ego. Clark's blue eyes shifted over to the eleventh grade table. Bruce scowled when his own gaze followed.

She was sitting there, alright, just as he expected, and looking as glorious as ever while doing it. Bruce had come to realise that for someone who'd thrown his life into absolute chaos, the princess could be surprisingly predictable if the mood took her.

Bruce clenched his jaw and gulped down his response as a taste of bitterness seeped from his mouth, engulfing him. Responding to Clark wasn't an option just then. Not when Diana was sitting there straddling the long bench spanning the dining table, looking devastatingly beautiful with her curls tumbling about her and her uniform tie undone. Not when Bruce realised Diana was holding an animated conversation with Vicki while her skilled fingers were working an intricate braid into Vicki's silky ginger tresses. He groaned internally.

 _Of all the fucking people. Vicki._

He added another point to his mental score sheet, this time under Diana's name. He was pretty put out about it; the princess did not play fair.

If Clark hadn't brushed him by accident he'd have stayed in his head brooding, thinking of how he could outdo her, basking in his planning and intelligence. Instead his blackeye started throbbing again. This time the culprit wasn't his bruise but sheer rage pumping blood into his head so violently he started seeing red. His fingers tightened around the tray in his hands. Oliver Queen himself climbed onto the bench behind Diana. Zipped his body right up to hers, so close that Bruce was certain they were breaking school policy, snaked a long finger into her hair, tucked it behind her ear and leaned forward whispering to her.

He could see the red radiating onto Diana's cheeks and the shy smile playing on her lips as she agreed with whatever he said. Bruce could see the satisfaction on Queen's face that his advances went well as he dropped his hand to her waist, leaving it there.

Bruce could also see himself, in the not too distant future, making sure that Oliver's teeth would be decorating the marble floor beneath them. He'd started walking too, ready to charge, but Clark slapped a hand onto his shoulder. The action calmed him enough to cement him in place. Clark patted Bruce's back and offered him an apologetic look.

"She's certainly a social butterfly," were the words spoken, but Bruce resented the undercurrent of pity in Clark's voice.

"I think the verbiage you're looking for is that she moves on really fucking quickly. It's disgusting," Bruce growled, turning to the table designated to twelfth graders. He hoped that principal Waller would be pleased with the critical letter he was planning to write her, questioning why such labelling had been given to the dining tables if rules weren't enforced and students (namely Oliver Queen) could just sit wherever they pleased.

Teachers liked examples.

"Are you of all people implying she's a slut?"

"Look Clark, let's get this straight, you can't side with her."

"There are sides now? Last I checked she didn't punch _me_ in the eye." Bruce could read between the lines, Clark was too well-mannered to call him an asshole. It hurt that Clark had so little faith in him and automatically felt that Bruce deserved any of this.

Yes it's true he'd been stupid enough to tell her she could date whoever she wanted and that Diana had made it clear after last night that she'd shine his other eye if he came within two fleet's proximity to her. But she'd threatened him before. They always made up. Always. Nothing could change that. When she calmed down long enough for him to apologise, he knew with absolute certainty, they'd be fine.

Clark's stance on the whole thing is what troubled him. Even if it was Bruce who'd suggested to Diana that they spar and heckled her until she stopped holding back… Clark didn't know that. It had always been Bruce, Clark, and Lois against the world.

When the hell had they stopped being a trio?

"You're my best friend," said Bruce, toying with a piece of pineapple in his bowl of fruit. The vulnerable tone seemed so out of place from the mouth of such a serious boy.

Clarks blue eyes met Bruce's, permitting, accepting and eventually agreeing. Clark sighed, setting his fork on his plate. "I am."

* * *

 _Gotham City now…_

This whole arrangement with Bruce had her stuck in a spider's web and Diana had an uncanny feeling that he'd soon come to strike.

She sighed setting her hairbrush down on the darkwood surface of the gym's front desk, then lifted her hand to press the pads of her fingers into the right side of her neck. Her face twisted as she rubbed on a particularly painful knot in the offending muscle. Steve was right: Jason needed to stop sleeping with her. She couldn't place the blame on how big he'd gotten; her queen-sized bed had enough space for the both of them. But the boy's restless jabs and kicks were starting to wreak havoc on her. She'd gotten such little sleep since Saturday, her body had started crying out for help.

Considering that Wednesday was a holiday, she knew that very few people would be at the office and so, at least for today, she'd get a break from the constant stream of people coming into the gym but that didn't mean that she could take the day off. Fewer clients were still clients and they deserved to train as they did on other days. And last night, when Etta and Barbara had offered to take Jason and Jessie to the aquarium, she knew that she could use this free time to work with Steve on some of the upcoming projects they had planned.

At least, that's what Diana would say if anyone asked.

In reality, the main reason she showed up at Wayne Tech that day had already been standing there watching her from the hallway.

Diana had chastised Bruce once when he showed up for class early. Something about him not respecting people's time, thinking the sun rose and set around him and a whole lot of gesticulating. Since then, he always showed up at six on the dot or hung back in the hallway until she opened the massive swinging doors and let him into the gym.

On days like today, when he arrived early, he loved watching her solitary moments. The way she double checked everything as she set up the pale coloured equipment for her classes. The way her braid would fly from side to side with a harsh snap of her neck in a particular direction. Always too preoccupied to notice him standing there looking at her through the circular window etched in the gym door.

Unlike his usual early days, however, there was no fond smirk playing on his lips as he watched Diana go through the motions. In its place; a look of concern. He'd been worrying about her. His princess seemed exhausted as she sat there gathering the mass of her hair at the back of her neck to start her braid. The way she'd flinch every now and then before rotating her neck as if to work out muscle stiffness. He could tell she wasn't her usual energetic self, yet she didn't think she could cancel their session this morning for some reason? He wanted to spend time with her but her well being would always be his first priority.

He continued looking on as Diana fiddled with her hair still trying to tame the undulating tresses into the braid before swearing under her breath and releasing it. Bruce couldn't help the breath that wooshed out his mouth in relief; he loved when Diana left her hair down. And yet… now that he thought about it, he never saw her wearing it down anymore, only in her photos.

He adjusted his gym bag on his back and started walking into the room. Diana froze when she heard his footsteps then shot up out of her chair, eyes darting nervously to the massive clock perched on the blue accent wall behind the front desk.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I'm late. I haven't even set up yet." Even as she started walking over to the thermostat to raise the temperature for their class Bruce could still see the way she wound her right shoulder round and round, trying to stretch her neck.

"It's okay, Diana," he said softly and Diana just knew he was worried about her. No matter how much her bitterness and pride would've liked her to forget, even after all these years apart, when he took that tone she couldn't mistake it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Bruce had always been a man of few apologies, when he said sorry, he meant it. Even for something as trivial as this. Diana paused and turned to face him, the final knots in her half done braid unwinding with the motion. Bruce almost sighed in relief as it did. After all this time he could finally see her exactly as she was in his memory; coming undone, unfurling herself and drifting off wherever the wind took her.

Free.

"Your hair's loose." Diana hadn't realised that he never stopped walking towards her until she felt the knob of the thermostat pressing firmly into her spine between her shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry." She didn't actually know why she was apologising, or why she'd begun breathing in fits and spurts. Diana looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time that morning and Bruce's breath caught on its way out. They'd been close together in this very room before. Their acro yoga sessions allowed him to hold her and feel her soft form in his arms, but Diana always kept it one hundred percent professional and was always the one in control. Now, seeing her as he remembered, having her so close to him Bruce felt as though the tables had finally turned in his favour.

"I like it, Diana," he said calmly. "Why do you always tie your hair back?" He was practically on top of her now and sirens started wailing in her head, snapping her back to reality.

"It's work," she replied succinctly, sliding her body against the textured, off-white wall paper to escape him. "Will you use your usual mat?" Bruce rolled his eyes and smirked, she could pretend to be all business if she wanted, but he would not let her off that easy.

"Sure," he said. "What does work have to do with your hair?"

"A lot of things." She tried to snap but it felt empty, as if even she couldn't commit the front she'd been putting on anymore. He wanted to see her face but she still had her back turned to him. "We really should get started. We're late and my other class is at seven."

"We can take our time. No one will be here for a while, it's a federal holiday and Wayne Tech doesn't really push the over time culture." Diana reached up to grab a mat from the hook-like shelves that she stored them on, the position pulled on her neck again and she flinched, the green mat falling to the floor with a soft thud as her hand flew upwards to rest against the inflamed muscle. When she felt the solid form his body behind her back and the sirens went off again. She wondered what he was doing and why the hell she liked it so much.

"Diana you really need to relax a bit. You'll wear yourself thin." His words rumbled through her — such an overwhelmingly soothing vibration that her own body slumped back against him on its own accord. Bruce pressed his body against hers, an unwavering pillar behind her then, like if it was the most natural thing in the world, he ran his fingers up the length of her arms the soft material on the sleeves of her purple top rising and falling with their ascent. Finally reaching their destination, Bruce placed his hands on her shoulders and began to knead the tension out of her muscles.

Diana swallowed. "I'll try." The sounds coming out her mouth seemed more like moans and less like actual words. Bruce was being way too kind and sexy. FairPlay seemed a lost concept to him, but Diana couldn't bring herself to care. She wanted to come up with some exceedly scathing way to tell him to stop but how could she when his ministrations where making her remember how much she loved his magic hands? How often he would do this for her whenever they sparred as kids. The way he always knew where her trouble spots were, how he would never stop until her body felt boneless and slack yet so secure with his wall of warmth right there against her.

Their proximity, her lemongrass, his hands on her all worked to remind him of what once were. The way everything about her just matched him so well. Bruce never wanted this moment to end.

"So how is your mom? And your best friend... What was her name? Kasia. And your aunt? The island?" He bombarded her with questions, looking down at her over her shoulder and smiling fondly at the slight flush to her cheeks and her eyes fluttering open and shut lazily.

Diana shrugged, her mouth twitched in annoyance but Bruce hadn't noticed. He wasn't watching then. His senses of touch and smell were overpowering everything else, but he still pressed on, "Come on, I know the island is top secret but who would I tell?"

"Isn't it obvious Bruce?" Diana said stubbornly. Her shoulders tensed up again and his fingers froze, only for his hands to start rubbing soothing circles there in the hopes of keeping her calm.

"What is?"

Clearly that hadn't been the response she wanted because she shifted her weight and pivoted to face him, her features hardened and her eyes narrowed. She didn't seem angry per say, just annoyed. "I've been exiled."

Bruce's heart stopped.

He knew he shouldn't press the matter, but he was like a dog with a bone at that point. He wanted to understand. "Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

Of course it mattered, everything about her mattered to him. How could he make her see that? He wanted to know everything about Diana but he knew better than to keep pushing her until she snapped and kicked him out of the studio.

"Please, let me at least help you stretch. It'll make your neck feel better, " Bruce said. His way of pleading with her to just give him a chance. "If it's one thing you taught me since we've been training, it's that stretching can cure almost anything." He feared her rejection, so his eyes fell to the khaki coloured wood of the floors beneath them.

"Bruce, I—" she paused, lowering her voice to a mere whisper, "What if someone sees?"

"Sees me helping you stretch? How is that different than what we do everyday? What you do with everyone? Besides, fuck 'em. I'm a big boy. I can do what I want." He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

I'm a big boy.

A phrase she heard ad nauseum from Bruce's miniature clone.

Just as when Jason said it a laugh bubbled up out of her. Bruce started beaming as the sound graced his ears.

He had so much of his son in him. She could see it now, the defiance, the confidence, the ease with which they spoke. Would he like that, she wondered? Would it make him happy to meet his little boy? Would she be able to help Jason when Bruce broke him like he always broke everyone? That last question was why she'd been in a standstill the entire month they'd been training together. She felt like she was a ten year old again sitting in the garden of the palace in Themyscira plucking the petals off of a sunflower. Instead of whispering 'she loves me, she loves me not', in her mind the new phrase was, 'will Bruce love him, or hurt him'. Every time Diana ripped the last petal free in her mind, 'hurt him' had been her answer.

For the sake of her son she needed more time to find out.

"Fine. Come on then, big boy," she acquiesced eventually, still fighting to keep the smile off her face. Diana slipped her fingers through his and pointed to the fallen rolled up mat. "Stretch me."

Bruce's face spread into a beaming smile, his body shaking hard with laughter as he watched Diana's jaw almost hit the floor when she realised what she'd just said. When she joined in with his laugh he knew it would be just like when they were kids, eventually she'd forgive him.

This time he'd make it right. This time he'd take it slow. This time they'd be okay.

* * *

Gotham never slept and neither did Lois Lane. She had a lead, and you didn't get to become an award winning journalist without exhausting every single one of those until something turned up.

The offending gut feeling keeping her up that night? Her boyfriend, Clark, had been keeping something from her.

The tell tale signs were all there: the way he'd been avoiding her gaze since Monday. Or the way he lied about being at Jimmy Olson's place for game night when the latter had shown up on the doorstep of their townhouse not ten minutes ago, panting, rain-soaked and rushing to drop some photos off for Clark to approve for the sports magazine they were working on.

She sat slouched in his favourite armchair wielding a glass of Grenache waiting in the dark. Clark had said he'd be back at ten, her eyes glanced at the digital clock gleaming into the darkness of the living room from atop their faux mantelpiece. Ten thirty-seven. She added mentally added, _'staying out later than discussed_ ' to the mountain of evidence confirming her suspicions. Now the only thing left was to confront him.

Lois didn't have to wait long. Her ears perked up at the clicking of his key in the lock as Clark let himself in. With each thumping of his footsteps her small form slank impossibly further into the oversized armchair. She wanted to go unnoticed for every second that she could; a surprise attack would be the quickest way to get him to confess.

Clark flipped on the switch and immediately wished he hadn't. "Hey, Lo," he said, cringing, then sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't — I thought you would be asleep by now."

Lois sat up, hooked one hot pink pyjama-pant covered leg over the other and took a sip of her wine before resting her glass on Jimmy's envelope perched on the small, glass side table to her right. "I waited up for you, you said you'd be home at ten."

"Oh you, you know how it is with Jimmy when he gets talking." He pshawed and waved his hand. He was going for flippance, in actuality all he did was knock into the lamp standing next to the doorway. It jiggled back and forth uneasily before settling back into its unusual place.

Lois smiled confidently, Clark had always been so easy to crack.

"Oh I know how it is when Jimmy gets talking, alright." She made a big show of sliding the envelope out from under the glass and holding it out to Clark. "He just told me that these were the photos he'd chosen for you. Poor guy got soaked in the rain rushing over here, Smallville. Said you absolutely had to have them tonight. I hadn't realised Jimmy's learnt how to be in two places at once, I'll have to ask him to share his secrets. Might be useful when I'm researching a story." Lois could hear Clark swallow from across the room.

She gloated.

"Crap." He looked tortured standing there rubbing the heel of his hand against his temple and tugging his hair. Lois almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"What's crappy exactly, Clark? You lying to me, or you getting caught?" He felt like she was pinning him in place with her eyes. It broke him instantly.

"Both, Baby, I'm sorry. I know it was wrong. I know it's messed up. I really hate lying to you. You know that."

Lois was still playing hardball. "Then why'd you do it?"

The words started tumbling out of him "I just needed to think. I still do. I'm not sure what to say to him— Bruce is always so unpredictable and I didn't —"

"Bruce?" Lois said jumping up, her bare feet leaving footprints in the plush white rug decorating their floor. There was no need for her anger if Clark was worried about Bruce. They were brothers, that was the only explanation required. She stopped in front of Clark, his hand dwarfing hers as she took it. Her expression had become so soft and tender that it seemed impossible to fathom that mere seconds prior she sported an expression one expected to find watching the world series of poker. "What does this have to do with Bruce?"

"Nothing — everything — I don't know!" He said. Clark's shoulders dropped as his eyes fell down to his scuffed up black Oxfords.

"It's okay, Clark breathe. Calm down and start from the beginning. What's going on?" Lois stroked her hand up and down his back and led him over to the sofa.

Their hands were still joined but Clark shifted his slightly, clutching onto Lois' slender fingers. He looked down at his petite girlfriend locking their gazes into place, "I want you to promise me that you will leave this to me. I'll tell you, we'll discuss it as much as you like, but I'm the one who decides if or when we tell Bruce."

"I promise."

Clark exhaled loudly and tightened his grip on her hand. "Diana has a son, I think that's why she's here."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading, once again I'm sorry for how long this took. Now that I've started back writing, I promise I'll update sooner. And if any of you have stuck around from last year, thank you for your patience, reviews and pm's, I hope this chapter was worth the wait and that you'll stick around for more.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading the last chapter and for bearing with me, I hope you all enjoy this one. It's long, sorry about that but I couldn't write it any other way.**

* * *

 ** _Eleven_**

* * *

 _Gotham City Now…_

He'd lost his socks sometime in the night. The cold started in his toes and crept through him until he felt it in his core. He searched for her in the dark — his life-sized radiator, his little hand grabbing and reaching only to find wrinkled sheets in its search.

His heart slammed hard enough to burst. His chest slowly constricted. His breath started coming out in shallow spurts. Then the boy's green eyes burst wide-open. "Mama," he cried out, his squeaky voice pierced through the dead of night.

Beyond the soft rustling of his anxious breathing, he could hear the faint chirp of a tap screwing shut, water stopping running and the faint clanking of metal on porcelain followed by some very bad Greek words. When Jason opened his mouth to call again Diana flew out of the bathroom tightening the tie for her bathrobe around her as she rushed over to her bed. "What is it? Are you hurt?"

Pink flooded his cheeks and the little boy buried his face into the white, satin covered pillow beneath him. The distraught look on her face did him in; the guilt made him feel physically sick.

His mother's sigh echoed in the silence. Diana didn't know how much more of this she could take. It had started with him sleeping in her bed. But since his last few seizures, it had gotten to the point where Jason began having full blown separation anxiety whenever she left him. "We've been over this, baby. I can't be with you every minute. I have to do things, too." Despite the knot in her mind pulling tighter and tighter as she scolded him Diana found herself tucking one foot under her as she sat in her bed and pulling him onto her lap. Frustrated or not she couldn't bear seeing him so upset. And truly, it wasn't his fault either. The seizures were coming more frequently, no matter how much his doctor modified the dosages of his medication. Diana knew that constantly waking up lost, in pain and delirious would take its toll on even the bravest of men; her boy was only five. His mother tucked a kiss into his dark hair and ran her hands soothingly up and down his back while murmuring, "I know you get scared sometimes but you need to trust that I'm doing my best to help you. I'll never abandon you. But… you're a big boy now. I need you to be brave."

Diana sat there looking at out at the massive windows on the opposite end of her loft. The sun had begun its ascent, soft streaks of orange and purple peeking through the ever present clouds in the Gotham sky.

" _Do you still love me, Mama_?" Jason whispered, slipping into their Greek.

" _Of course, Iasonas_." She looked down as her brow furrowed. How could he ever think she didn't?

Diana had promised herself when he was born that he belonged to her and no one else. She obsessed over him, never sleeping, keeping vigil by his cradle lest he so much as sigh or whimper when she was asleep and she could not comfort him. She would have enough self restraint to let him be while he slept but the moment he'd peel back the blue veined skin of his eyelids, the bright green orbs would search for her and she'd take him in her arms, holding him against her heart wishing that he'd never get too big for her to curl her body around him and shield him from the world.

It was almost a sweet suffering loving Jason. Just like it was with his father. But the ache in her heart with Jason was far greater than it had ever been with Bruce. She had never felt such feelings before. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him.

Nothing she wouldn't do for him.

Whether he asked it of her or not, if it would increase his happiness or well being she would do it willingly. No matter the cost.

" _Don't make me go to school, Mama._ "

Except maybe that.

" _School's not optional. You miss enough when you're sick. And I need to go to work, so I can make sure we have money to get what we need._ "

" _I could go to work with you and you could teach me. Please?"_ Thelittle voice broke and a little hand gripped the fuzzy collar of her grey robe as his body shook with his sobs. His tears were falling freely by now and Diana held him tightly, singing the lullaby she always sang to him. The same her mother sang to her… trying to let the words wash over her as they used to, wishing things were like when she was still a small girl and her mother could make her problems disappear in a heartbeat.

How could she explain to him that the reason she couldn't take him to work with her like any normal parent was that the parent he didn't know he had, would be there and his mother didn't think it was safe for them to meet, yet?

Diana pressed another kiss to his forehead then pulled him back to look over him as he calmed. _"I'll walk you into class. Hmm? Would that make it easier, baby_?"

Jason dropped his eyes from hers and nodded reluctantly. His mother sighed her relief. Etta usually made the school run in the mornings. Diana would drop a sleeping Jason at her neighbours' with his uniform and school things in tow before rushing off to open the gym early enough for Bruce and the rest of the morning classes.

Her stomach sank when it occurred to her that getting to work late today would mean that she'd be unable to see Bruce that morning. If Diana chose to be completely honest with herself, she'd admit that she'd miss Bruce. She couldn't explain how it happened exactly, but Bruce had weaseled his way back into her life and somehow — miraculously — they hadn't managed to kill each other yet. As a matter of fact, she looked forward to seeing him everyday and lavishing in the attention he paid her, the way he'd dote on her and actually listen to her when she spoke.

Bruce had always been a good listener but, when they were younger, he also had an uncanny way of picking at her words and spitting back the scraps at her when it suited his agenda. But something seemed different this time with Bruce. He seemed patient and self assured in ways she'd never known him to be before. Maturity suited him. Diana liked this Bruce.

Soon, their son would too.

* * *

Bruce was a fucking storm cloud that Sunday afternoon; not quite bursting but threatening to leave destruction in his path.

As Clark shifted in the booth they were sat in, he wondered if he'd picked the right day to have their conversation. He'd play it by ear. A sour expression didn't mean anything from Bruce, it's just what his face was like.

Bruce gave their waitress a terse nod as the wrinkle faced woman deposited their matching plates of chicken parmigiana in front of them, then he grinned and nodded to his friend to tuck in before unfolding his own napkin and starting on his own meal.

Clark sighed in relief as he studied his friend deciding as far as Bruce's moods went, this would be as good as it would get. He'd already sat on this information for two weeks. He had to be violating some best friend code, keeping something as important as this from Bruce. Clark started cutting into the breaded chicken and his gaze glossed over as he started formulating his words.

Bruce beat him to it. Apparently, Mr. Fox had invited Bruce to some seminar that Wayne Enterprises would be hosting in Metropolis, next week. Apparently, Bruce hoped to see Clark's parents there and would soon call to ask them to come to the city. Apparently, Bruce thought this qualified as important news.

"Diana has as son," Clark blurted out. The sound which followed seemed to be half wince, half groan. He could already see Lois smacking her palm to her face when he told her how this conversation went.

The other man paused, pushing his mouthful of chicken to one side of his cheeks as he chewed. Bruce dropped a large, blue veined hand in his lap and picked up the linen napkin pressing it firmly to each corner of his mouth. The silence stretched on. Clark wanted to smack him. Of course Bruce would choose the exact moment someone wanted him to react to be tight-lipped.

Clark decided he'd drank a big enough dosage of foot in mouth syrup for that day, so he'd wait. Bruce was processing.

They were halfway through their meal before Clark would get a reaction.

"How did you find out?"

Clark dipped a hand into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out his smartphone. Bruce's gaze burnt holes into Clark's hands as he scrolled through Diana's Instagram feed looking for the offending picture, then passed the device to his friend.

Bruce looked down at the picture then his eyes popped back up to Clark. "The toddler she's holding?"

Clark nodded. Like in a lot of her photos, Diana was with kids. Toddlers, ten year olds — heads of every height and hair colour in between were scattered like mismatched polka dots around her. Strange things were happening in Bruce's chest. Things he couldn't grasp or define. Even frozen in the photograph, her smile reached into his soul and molded his expression to mirror hers. A weight lifted and Clark melted onto his backrest.

The little sandy blonde boy she held in her arms had his head lolled back in rapturous laughter. A chubby hand tangled into her curls almost disappearing into the thick mass of Diana's hair. Bruce still had one question.

"How do you know he's hers?"

Clark held his palm out and Bruce handed him the phone. After some more tapping and scrolling he presented it to his friend once again.

Bruce's grey irises became windows as they reflected the white light from the screen while he read the comments Clark had pulled up for him.

Tahlia0923: _your son looks so happy, D. I can't believe how big he's gotten!_

: _I know! He's outgrowing me! His laughter is everything._

Well shit, it couldn't get any clearer than that. Bruce set Clark's phone on the wooden table with a hollow thud.

"Who's the father, do you think? I mean… it doesn't matter anyway, I'll have to show her that I'll be there. That I can take care of them both."

Clark swallowed the piece of chicken he'd just bitten, whole. "But you hate children," he managed to wheeze out.

"Not Diana's child. I could never hate Diana's child." He shook his head in stubborn defiance then dropped both hands to the table top. His expression softened and Clark caught a rare glimpse of insecurity on Bruce's face. "You think Steve's the dad?"

"That could be a possibility. That's why they're always together and why he's so protective of her." Clark's broad shoulders shrugged half heartedly. "The kid… they have the same colouring."

"I'll eventually have to talk to him, I guess. As Diana and I get closer, their son will too. I don't want him to think that I'm trying to steal his place."

Clark shot up in his seat. Bruce was jumping the fucking gun. He couldn't be serious. Bruce had never been able to successfully commit to a relationship, yet now he felt qualified to be a stepfather? He held his tongue though, Bruce had always proven himself to be intelligent, Clark knew he'd eventually see things correctly.

Or so he hoped.

And prayed.

Neither Clark, nor Lois — or Bruce and Diana, for that matter — could survive the cataclysm of the latter couple's tumultuous relationship.

Then again as Pa Kent always said, "History always repeats itself.

* * *

 _Cadmus five and a half years ago_

A blistering wind blew around him as the bus taking his best friends home rolled off, rustling the barren leaves of the oak they usually sat under. Bruce pulled the navy scarf Clark's mom had knitted for him up over his mouth. Ma Kent had sent the bundle as she usually did: tied with a shiny ribbon and a hand written invitation to spend Christmas at the farm. Bruce loved the way she never forgot him and he never had to pretend when he told the Kent's that spending every Christmas at the farm was the highlight of his year. Even if he'd put on a show and utter the words begrudgingly just to get Clark riled up, he wouldn't miss it for the world.

This year, however, he'd have a late start. Fate had other plans for him.

At the end of every fall semester, the board of trustees at Cadmus deemed it pertinent to release a Christmas catalogue highlighting their best pupils. This exercise killed two birds with one stone. One: it reassured parents that their substantial investment in their children's education would reap high returns. Two: showed the parents of prospective students that the school stood for excellence in every field. That was how Bruce found himself spending the first two days of his Christmas break stuck in school.

As he stood there, certain Clark and Lois couldn't see him any more and wondering why the hell he couldn't stop waving at the bus, he pondered when it became acceptable for educational facilities to start pimping out minors. Now he'd have to spend two long, torturous days, with whoever else got selected to stay.

Well, maybe not 'with' them. Gothamites were known for their aloofness. And Wayne was their poster child.

Christmas in Smallville had started five years ago when Clark and Bruce had first been assigned as roommates and, if Clark's parents had any say in the matter, would probably never end, as long as they lived.

His grey gaze narrowed as he averted his eyes to the ultramodern, silver and white school building. His parents would never have allowed this. His father always said that a person's accomplishments should speak for themselves and not be blasted for everyone to see. But still, a small flicker of warmth spread through him when he imagined how his father would've walked around with the magazine in his briefcase showing everyone how his boy had scored top marks in every subject in his grade.

Bruce clenched his jaw swallowing his emotions as the bus with his friends at the end of the long, birch-lined, gravel road finally turned out of the massive wrought iron gates to the school. His parents were dead. Dead people couldn't feel pride.

Alfred did though, which was why the consent forms were signed for him to stay.

Bruce looked up at the bright, blue sky, his upper lip turning into a snare. It had rained all week on Campus. A whole week stuck indoors after exams, praying for the sun to come out so he, Clark and Lois could go roving about the grounds and enjoying the novelty of freedom at school. Scratch that, Lois wouldn't have gone with them, she'd been too busy chatting it up with the princess of the sudden. They were best friends now, apparently.

He'd never know what was worse, that Diana had bewitched his friends and could take them from him whenever she wanted to. Or the way she acted as if Bruce didn't even exist anymore.

He shook his head as if the physical motion would dislodge Diana from his thoughts. It was a lesson in futility, he couldn't ever shake her, no matter how hard he tried. She owned him.

Bruce wondered if she knew it.

By now his sole of his Vans were crunching the gravel as the boy crossed the courtyard and passed one of the angular archways leading into the inner quadrangle. He figured the library would be a good way to pass the time, turning eastbound and crossing the now barren rose shrubs that lined the pathways. The wind blasted around him and Bruce contemplated pulling the scarf up over his eyes in the hopes that he could carry on his journey looking through the spaces in between the stitches.

Her scent hit him before he spotted her. The lemongrass awakening his senses as the bitter cold surrounded him. His steps froze and just the thought she was near made his skin tingle in anticipation. Bruce found himself straightening his uniform tie and making sure his shirt was properly tucked into his pants, all the while her smell and the sound of her laughter floated over to him, warming him from the inside out.

He dragged his hand along the side of the grey archway and as he dropped down the two steps they came into view. Bruce's breath left him as quickly as if he'd been punched in the gut. It was like if the extremities in his body were all coming alive. Seeing her sitting there, her hair blowing wildly up around her while she shook with laughter. Her long legs crossed into a pretzel as she sat on her coat, protecting her from the hard, cold stones of the impasse they were in. Even Ollie's presence didn't phase Bruce.

He pondered momentarily if this heat radiating through him was the Christmas spirit that people spoke about. He watched Diana kiss the air around Oliver's cheeks, then wave to him as Queen jogged off.

The Princess still hadn't noticed him standing in the archway. It's always a curious thing observing someone who has no idea they're being watched. He became hypnotised by the way she wrangled her hair from the wind and knotted it into a low ponytail and the way she patted some invisible dust off of her navy school tights. Diana pulled her knees up hugging them to her body as she looked out towards the dormitories. Her eyes longed for something, Bruce would stop at nothing until she had it.

He left the secrecy of the archway and moved towards her. Her expression sobered then her blue eyes shifted from him back to the dorms.

His stomach fell, even on the last day she was still determined to ignore him. At some point the ice had to break, he bit the bullet.

"Clark told me his parents invited you to the farm," he said, removing his coat and draping it on the floor, like she had, before sitting.

"That's it then, come to rub spit in the wound because I can't go, but you can?"

"Okay, firstly, that's not how you use that expression. And secondly, I may have a solution to get you there."

"School policy says that — in the absence of parents arranging with the shuttle bus— you need an adult to sign you out and to escort you to your holiday destination. Mother's forcing me to stay here. If leaving were that simple I'd have just gotten onto the bus with Clark and Lois."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Will you shut up and listen to me?" Diana huffed and folded her arms, she aimed for petulance, what she actually succeeded in was looking like a five year old. Clark had explained this all to him. The Queen had given Diana permission to leave the school premises, but since she had not been in full support of the trip, yet unable to provide Diana with a valid reason as to why she couldn't go, Hippolyta had simply neglected to provide an adult to take Diana to Smallville. As Bruce saw it, this could be where Alfred stepped in. If Diana could convince her mother to call the school and give his name, Bruce would take care of everything else.

He could see the wheels in her head turning then she jumped to her feet with a start. "Let's do it." They were right at the entrance to the dormitories when the door swung open and Mister Lord bumped into them.

"Ah… Your Highness. How nice to see you've got some company." The man provided Bruce with the same look one might have if a skunk had sprayed the room. "And where is it, perchance, that he's leading you?"

Diana plastered a sickly sweet smile on her face. "Astray, headmaster, where else?"

"May I talk to you?" Lord leaned into her and dropped his voice.

Diana was relentless.

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"In private, I'd like to share some delicate information about what I have planned for your stay during Christmas break."

Boy did Bruce ever want to knock those overgrown teeth out of his face. He contemplated momentarily if it would be worth it, Alfred had already gotten a warning letter claiming he had problems respecting his authority figures — whatever that meant— but he could do without the lecture.

"That doesn't seem to require discretion, does it Bruce?" Diana grabbed Bruce's hand, for some kind of support and he groaned internally. Despite the freezing temperatures, his palms were sweaty. He wished he'd thought to dry them beforehand. He tried to slip his hand from hers to rub it quickly against his pants, but Diana's grip was steadfast.

"I'm not sure your mother would be proud of your choice of company, Princess. It would be such a shame for her to have to find out."

Bruce's free hand started curling into a fist. Fuck authority, Maxwell Lord had it coming to him for a long time.

"More a shame than me telling her about how the vice principal of Cadmus has entered my personal space more than once and wants to do things with a sixteen year old girl that for some reason require discretion?

"Let's get this straight, Sir," she spat looking the middle aged man up and down with disdain, "I am Diana of Themyscira. My word is law on the Island. My mother is queen. This is the first time a royal from my country has attempted diplomacy, I am here to learn. Nothing else. So don't you dare threaten me. Or, I'm sure Mother will be happy with the earful I'll give her," she said haughtily and Bruce snickered as he relaxed his fist. He always thought she had the perfectly high cheekbones for haughtiness.

He wanted to give her a round of applause. It seemed she owned Mister Lord too. The latter was now retreating with his tail between his legs.

"Are you coming?" she asked irately, tugging on his hand. "You're supposed to be saving me from this place. My own dark knight in shining armour, or have you forgotten?"

"The knight gets the princess in this story, right?"

A smile. It was nearly a smile.

* * *

 _Gotham City Now…_

He was nearing obsession.

Not an entirely new sensation to him. Bruce always became obsessed with anything he took an interest in, latching on with an unyielding grip. Opening it up and unwinding its secrets.

Unfortunately for him, Diana held his interests above all. He had been here before. Tossing in the bed and thinking of her. Not eating breakfast while Alfred looked on worried because he couldn't separate her from his mind. Back then, Diana plagued him like a sickness — the way her love infected him, overtook him and swaddled him in it's lullaby warmth— Bruce's heart almost flatlined trying to fight her off.

This time it felt like coming home.

When he'd arrived at six on the dot for their class on Monday morning and Steve had grunted to him (while avoiding eye contact) that Diana would be in late, he'd accepted it. Look, he wouldn't write home about it, but Diana had been so exhausted their last few sessions together. He hoped she would be getting some much deserved rest.

When on Tuesday he saw the sign they'd put up, saying that classes with Diana before 10 am had been cancelled indefinitely and that they were searching for another yoga instructor to take up the morning load, Bruce nearly had a heart attack.

After that, Diana became some kind of workplace urban legend. She was there, but not really. She'd come in late, stay a minimum amount of time then leave again. And whenever Bruce would catch a glimpse of her, God… His stomach just twisted into knots. Considering Diana always looked like if the sun followed her around as her personal soft glamour lighting, seeing her pale and exhausted with the rims of her eyelids bright red around the edges — it knocked the wind right out of him.

Bruce had tried hanging back and giving her some space. Toddlers were notorious for their hyperactivity and affinity for discovering new ways to kill themselves every time their parents' backs were turned. Maybe she just needed time to recover.

The good news: he'd observed Diana and Steve long enough to confirm that they definitely weren't dating anymore.

The bad news: he'd be gone for a whole week. To think that he wouldn't be able to see her or touch her before he left almost killed him.

By Friday, Bruce planted himself on the lime green couch just at the entrance to the gym. At some point, Diana would have to enter or exit and he'd be able to talk to her. To tell her about his trip. To just hear her tone of voice and have her look into his eyes so he could confirm she was okay.

After the third consecutive hour of Bruce's wait, Steve stepped into the hallway for maybe the sixth time and growled frustratedly when he still found him there waiting.

"She's having a hard week, Bruce. I don't think she wants to see you." Steve lowered his voice as Cobblepot limped down the hallway and his green eyes met Bruce's. "Don't take it personal. She doesn't really want to see anyone."

Bruce stood up looking at Steve. Clark had been right as usual; he and the boy definitely had the same colouring.

"Please, I don't want to upset her. I'm going away for a week. I'll be seeing some people she used to know. People who loved her very much. I just want to tell her that." He'd started rolling his pearl between his fingers, his voice barely a whisper. "To say goodbye. To see if she's okay."

Steve looked at Bruce for a long time. So many messages were conveyed in those moments and they all shared one lowest common denominator: _'if you hurt her, I'll hurt you.'_ Bruce leaned his weight on his heels, his head craning backwards, the fluorescent light bulbs above them nearly blinding him as he did. How could he communicate to Steve that besides himself, the only person in the world who could truly make him suffer had always been Diana? That punches were temporary, but that the mark Diana had left on his soul was permanent.

Steve mistook the pensive look on Bruce's face as a sign that he'd put the fear of his wrath into him. Seemingly satisfied with that, the blonde nodded his head towards the gym signaling Bruce to follow him before pointing towards the fire escape and mumbling that Diana would be up there.

* * *

The rusty iron railings stung his fingers when Bruce paused on the last step and he wished he'd thought to bring his coat and gloves for this little field trip.

The wind wailed and moaned around him lashing at Bruce's cheeks relentlessly. It brought her lemongrass over to him in waves, ebbing and flowing, each time the scent receded it pulled him closer to her with it. He found her perched on the edge of one of the air circulation vents towards the centre of the rooftop. Countless black curls writhed up and out above her like an auror of snakes. Diana had her arms curled around her body dragging her cardigan as tightly as it could go as a vicious shiver shook her from head to toe. Time had changed many things about Diana, it seemed, except her ability to dress appropriately for the cold. Bruce smiled to himself; he could still be the one to keep her warm.

The billionaire inhaled deeply. The frosty air burned his lungs as it entered, waking his senses and giving him the internal push he needed to climb the last step up unto the discoloured concrete of the rooftop. Diana wouldn't have heard him even if she tried, the wind raged about them as if they were caught in the path of a military helicopter, she did, however, sense him. She craned her neck to look behind her and nodded her head in greeting. Diana's mouth widened when she saw him, but Bruce wouldn't have called it a smile exactly, then she turned back to look at the Gotham skyline stretching on for miles ahead of them. He paused for a minute taking another deep breath and pressing his hand to his right pants pocket for his pearl his fingers lingering on the little bulge it made, then he cleared the distance between them, taking a seat at her side.

Bruce shimmied out of his suit jacket and draped it across her shivering shoulders.

"Now you'll be cold."

"It doesn't matter if you'll be warm. Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Shall I order something for us?"

"No." Diana sighed wearily. "Just stay?"

"As long as you want, Princess."

There were tears threatening to fall when Diana turned to him. "Please, I'm not a Princess, anymore."

"I know that, Diana. Forgive me. It's just hard to think of you differently."

Diana nodded and turned back to the skyline. She started blinking rapidly to clear her eyes. She would not cry. She'd promised herself that Bruce would never get that satisfaction again.

Minutes went by and Diana didn't say a word, this was how she did things now: giving Bruce her melancholy.

As an orphan, persistent and tangible sorrow had become a way of life to him. He could help her through it. He would make her happy again, if it was the last thing he ever did. His right arm reached around her pulling her close, his left arm dragging circles across her back. Diana sighed and collapsed into him, it took every ounce of self restraint for him not to kiss her hair. Bruce settled for the next best thing, burying his nose under a blanket of curls and inhaling deeply as he held her.

They said many things in their stillness, but only the conversation Diana knew they had to have out loud mattered. She couldn't grasp the words needed — this was how she did things now — so she said something else.

"I missed your silence the most Bruce. The peace that only you could ever give me. But the day when I needed your silence… you were the loudest you'd ever been."

She craned her head up to look at him. His jaw clenched, he kept his eyes locked stubbornly on the Gotham Dial just across the street from them. How could he ever begin to apologise for the moment that he broke her?

"Diana, I —" A finger to his lips stopped him. Its owner's deep blue eyes fixated on Bruce's lips as they curved to a frown then snapped back up as Diana dragged her index down until the heel of her hand dropped onto his lap.

Her eyes held a sad smile. An expression that spoke so much understanding that Bruce's body slackened with relief. "It doesn't matter anymore," she said. "I've forgiven you. I'll never forget what you did, or said that day. But holding onto that anger — especially anger derived from someone I loved as much as you... it eats away at your soul, Bruce. Makes you skeptical and scared and fractured." Diana reached for his hand, frozen fingers interlocked and filled each of them with warmth. "I have someone important to me who needs all of me, especially the good parts and none of the ugly bits left behind. So I let it go for them. You understand?"

He nodded. _More than she thought_.

"It's the same as before, the push and pull. Except you're pushing this time and I'm the one who's running away."

"It's not the same Diana, I hurt you that's why you're afraid. I unleashed pain and anger on you that had nothing to do with you, back then. I'm not a perfect man, but I can see so clearly where I went wrong now. I don't want to hurt you. Before…" Bruce paused, his lips wrinkling and flattening, wracking his brain to find some delicate way of saying what he meant before giving up. "Fuck Diana, we were fucking toxic. Between my stubbornness and your pride…" he shook his head. "Nothing about it was healthy."

That throaty laugh that he loved so much bubbled through her until it burst free and Bruce's heart expanded until it felt like he'd explode. He was right, she'd told him. They'd collided like an unstoppable force and an unmovable object. Bruce knew they'd both have to learn how to bend before they snapped again.

He looked at the dial again. Three o'three, Diana always left work promptly at three-thirty. He knew now, given Clark's news, that she probably had to collect her son, this he respected so he wouldn't waste her time. He hastened to tell her about Metropolis, his trip and his plan to see the Kents. Told her how he'd miss her and asked her if she'd let him take her for dinner when he returned.

"We'll see," she replied. But her cheeks burned pink and Bruce knew it wasn't from the cold. He chuckled and pressed his lips to her temple. He couldn't believe he'd done it. But it seemed so natural to him and felt so good.

Diana pushed herself off of him and Bruce shut his eyes steeling himself for the worst. It never came, instead she squeezed his fingers tightly and his eyes popped open.

Diana gave him that look, the one she'd been giving him since they met, the one that said _'don't hesitate or you're going to miss something_ ' and Bruce stopped thinking and started closing the distance between them because fuck if he was going to miss whatever this was. He tried not to marvel at how she got there first. How was she always so far ahead of him? If he was the one who had been thinking about this for so long, how did she wind up being the one waiting on him?

"Diana," he said firmly. And against his better judgement he hesitated. She released his hand. He might have left, but she'd let him kiss her. And the look on her face... His instincts…

She whimpered when his lips crashed into hers. He had her caged in; she wasn't going anywhere. One hand trembled against his chest the other clawed his thigh as though it were her lifeline. Her mouth parted for him. She'd let him in. He pressed her tightly against him. And she kissed him back.

She was kissing him back.

Bruce pressed one last kiss to her soft lips then he pulled away before he took things too far.

Diana leaned into him as he broke free. "Was that goodbye?" she whispered hoarsely, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes. She sounded so sad, so lonely.

"It's a promise of what's to come, Princess."

"Bruce I told you, I'm not that girl anymore."

"She's still here and you're still her." _I love you,_ he wanted to add. Instead he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers as he stood up to take his leave. "I'll see you a week from now."

He'd just stepped onto the first step on the fire escape when her voice echoed over in the wind.

"Bruce, I'm afraid."

"Of me?" he asked, gripping the rail tightly as he faltered.

"Yes... I mean no. I'm afraid you'll leave again."

"Never."

"You will... you have. There will be someone else."

"Someone else isn't you." He was beside her again in seconds, his head falling, trying to get her to meet his eyes. "Don't regret this, Diana," he said bringing a hand up to caress her cheek, but she held her face just out of his reach.

She already did.

* * *

 **A/N: If you made it through the end, thank you and please don't be shy to let me know what you think.**

 **Next Up: In the past, Christmas in Smallville. In the present, Bruce's world is turned upside down.**


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